Rule Breaker
by Bliss Ink
Summary: Sidney Crosby is a rule maker not a rule breaker. He has a rule for everything. Jordan Staal has no rules except date no one twice.So what happens when a player trade brings girls into their lives that screw with the rules?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: **_This story is about Sidney Crosby and Jordan Staal of the Pittsburgh Penguins. It takesd place during the 2008 - 2009 NHL Season. Other players from other NHL teams like the Vancouver Canucks and Montreal Canadiens etc will make appearances. The characters of Bella Morgan, Clay Morgan, Dean Morgan and Vanessa Canning do not exist. Even though they are the only fictional characters this whole story is FICTIONAL. I really appreciate any feedback you have. Thanks for reading!

_"Whichever comes first, for better or worse_

_He's married to the game, like a fuck you for Chirstmas_

_His gift is a curse, forget the earth." __**Eminem**_

Mario has been walking around with his cellphone glued to his ear for the past 3 hours. If he's not taking a call, he's making one. I'm not stupid. I know something is up. And when something is up with Mario Lemieux, that means something is about to be up with the Pittsburgh Penguins.

Nathalie smiles at me as I come in the kitchen.

"Hungry?" she wants to know and I shake my head no, but smile.

"No I ate on the way home from the rink." I explain and then adjust my hat and motion toward the living room. "Has he been on the phone the whole time I've been at practice?"

"Yes," she replies. "You know how it goes."

As she turns back to the oven, where she's baking something that smells delicious.

I'm dying to know what's going on. Mario often takes his work home with him, but this is different. This is intense. This reeks of trade.

I know it's not me, obviously, but he is trying to wheel and deal someone before the holiday freeze. I want to know who so I can prepare myself. And prepare the team. I mean, that's my job.

I drop into one of the oak and leather stools at the granite breakfast bar and watch Nathalie pull a piping hot tray of cookies out of the oven.

As if on cue, Alexa and Austin come bounding into the kitchen. Nathalie shoos them away.

"They have to cool!" she insists.

Austin turns to me with an inquisitive face. "How was practice?"

"Good."

"You gonna beat the Canucks or what?" he demands to know and I try not to smile.

"I'll do my best," I promise solemnly.

"Good," he replies and scrunches up his little nose. "The Canucks suck."

I laugh as Mario enters the room and grabs Austin by the shoulders hugging his son despite the boy's eye rolling. He kisses Alexa on the cheek as Nathalie finally gives them both a cookie and slides one onto the granite counter in front of me too.

They're oatmeal with M&Ms baked into them. My favorite, damnit.

"So it's done," he tells us all.

"What's done?" I ask feeling a little queasy. I don't deal well with change and if this involves the team…

"We picked up Clay Morgan."

I blink. "Clay Morgan? From Montreal?"

Mario nods. "They've got cap issues. They had to dump someone. It wouldn't hurt us to have some more depth defensively what with Gonch injured. I made a call."

"Morgan?" Austin repeats. "Is he related to that jerk Dean Morgan on the Canucks?"

Mario nods as Nathalie gives her son a disapproving look.

"That jerk is a fast forward with a killer slapshot," Mario corrects his son. "And yes, Dean is his older brother. Clay is bigger, 6'4, and somehow he's still fast. He also knows how to shoot."

"He's been in a pretty long point slump this year," I say because I remember hearing the TSN guys report on it and how Gainey was pissed off at Morgan's underachieving which is probably why he let him go.

"I'm confident Mike can whip him out of that," Mario replied easily.

"So we're not losing anyone?" I clarify anxiously.

Marion smiles. "No Sid. Relax. We're just adding a little more depth."

I smile casually and take a bit of the cookie even though I know that means I'll have to do crunches before bed tonight.

"How did things go at practice today?" Mario wants to know as he too steals a cookie off the tray.

"Fine," I say simply knowing I can't tell him yet again how unhappy I am with Theirren. I've expressed my concern and distaste for his coaching style a lot but Mario recently asked me to try and open my mind and give him a really good second chance. So that is what I am doing… or trying to.

His phone starts buzzing again and as he swallows down the cookie and answers it, I excuse myself and head to my room.

Once there, I close the door and flip open my Mac book and google Clay Morgan.

Clay Jared Morgan born September 1, 1985 in Boston Massachuesetts while his dad, JD Morgan, was the goalie coach at Boston University.

I raise an eyebrow at that. Hockey blood, just like me. I scroll further down the wikipedia page.

He had one older brother Dean who was drafted originally by the Avalanche and played one year for them before moving to the Canucks. I knew that. I'd faced Dean before. He was a bit of a hot head with a strong slapshot, like Mario had said. Clay also had a younger sister that it says here was a goalie on the UCLA's female hockey team. Wow. She must be as big as he is. Female hockey players of any kind are usually able to bench press as much as I am.

I continue on, skimming over this guy's life.

Started playing hockey at 3. Played at University of Maine, Orono on a full scholarship. Drafted 2nd round by the Los Angeles Kings. Traded almost at the end of his first season to Montreal. And now… although wikipedia didn't have the update yet… he was a Pittsburgh Penguin.

He played offensive defence. I remember he scored on us the last time we played the Habs. I also remember that he skated away from Cookie when he started yipping trying to goad him into a fight.

I flipped back to the google home page I had put his name in and hit images. I was nosey what can I say.

There was the typical shots of him on the ice during games. A few of him from the Habs website during practice and in his suit getting off the team bus. And then, at the bottom of the first page, I found a pic of him with his brother, in T shirts and jeans both holding Corona bottles but not looking fall-over-drunk. And then there was another shot of him, in a suit, next to a fairly tall, very slim, incredibly sexy looking brunette. He was turned away from the camera looking down at her and laughing at something She was looking directly at the camera with a mischevious grin on her full pink lips and a gleam in her green eyes.

She was gorgeous.

It was some weird fan site and there was no description as to who the girl was but it had to be the girlfriend. Or wife, although I hadn't read he had one of those.

I hoped beyond hope she was the wife. Wives understood the routine. The trades, the moving, the road trips and all the other rituals that were the life of a hockey player. Girlfriends… not so much. They were always more whiny, more insecure and more demanding which always made the players more distracted. The last thing Clay Morgan needed was to be dealing with a freaked out girlfriend in the middle of bonding and performing with a new team.

Well, if it wasn't the last thing he needed it was definitely the last thing I needed. This year wasn't starting out the best. We weren't completely tanking but we were struggling both in the locker room to bond as a team and on the ice as well. Every win was more of a struggle than it had to be. Than it should be.

If Mario was going to bring in fresh blood we had to have their whole commitment and attention or it would just create further distraction.

God, I hope she is the wife.

_"But I think I'm still trying to figure this crap out_

_Thought I had it mapped out, but I guess I didn't_

_This fucking black cloud still follows me around" _**Eminem**

I really needed to change my ringtone back to something fun. I had switched it to the John Carpenter theme from Halloween as a joke in October but I kept forgetting to change it back. And, now as I lay half asleep in bed, it started to blare from my cell on my nightstand and scared the living crap out of me.

Instead of answering it I pull the pillow over my head.

It finally stops but 30 seconds later starts again.

I continue to ignore it and it stops… and then starts again.

I groan and grab it without opening my eyes. I flip over and see his name on the call display.

"This better be good."

"I've been traded."

My eyes fly open.

The early morning sun is drifting in through my white gauze curtains. I glance at the clock. It's a little after 7 am.

"To who?" is all I can say because the why doesn't matter.

"Pens."

My body tenses. "Penguins? Pittsburgh?"

"No Pen State," he replies sarcastically. "I've decided to go back to college. This NHL thing isn't for me."

"Asshat," I roll my eyes but grow serious again quickly. "Did you see it coming?"

"No. And maybe yes," he replies. "I mean my contract is up next year and they haven't even called my agent. And I knew they had cap issues."

"There are worst teams to be traded to," I remind him still trying to process this news. "You could have ended up on the Leafs."

He chuckles at that. "I'm leaving today. Have a plane out at 7 tonight."

"Wow," I blink. "They're not messing around."

"Mr. Lemieux wants me to play tomorrow night."

"Dean is playing the Penguins tomorrow!" I blurt out and know I'm going to regret it. Stating the obvious in my family does not go unpunished.

"Really? I had no idea!" I can literally see him rolling his eyes through the freaking phone. "Dean? My brother plays hockey? Cool."

"Shut up okay, you woke me up," I bitch shoving the pillows back against my headboard for comfort.

"Did you go out last night, bar star?"

"No jerkoff," I lie. "It's 7am. Learn your time zones already."

"Whatever."

"So you're playing Dean in your first game as a Pen," I mutter thinking of my brothers facing off against each other. I don't like it much. I always hoped they be on the same team. They never have been so I should be used to it by now.

"Yeah," he pauses. "Him and the rest of the Canucks. Like Kesler."

I feel cold suddenly and it's 75 degrees.

"Leave it alone," I warn.

"Nope."

"Clay nothing happened. I'm fine. I'm okay with everything the way it is. Just relax." I am rambling on like a panicked idiot.

"The ink probably won't be dry in time anyway and I'll spend my night in the press box."

"Better than the penalty box," I snap.

"Look, what's your class load like?" he wants to know, changing the subject without actually agreeing to leave well enough alone.

"I have two papers to turn in next week and then I'm off for winter break."

"Can you fly out to Pittsburgh and help me find a place to live and all that crap?" He wants to know. "I hate doing that shit and you're great at it. Plus it would be nice to have a familiar face around."

Clay hates change. Always has. Which is why this is probably the worst possible career choice for him. Unless you're a superstar there's little or no control over where you play and for how long.

"Superstar…" I whisper.

"What?"

"Clay you get to play with Sid the Kid," I blurt out because it honestly just hit me. Like a ton of bricks.

"Dear God you're slow," he tells me annoyed. "Can you come out or not?"

"Yeah sure. I can email the papers in." I say and I'm suddenly excited. "This is good C. He's not a selfish player. He sets up everyone, doesn't just hog shots. They made the Stanley Cup finals last year!"

"Yeah, but they lost," Clay reminds me. "And rumor is if he doesn't get along with you, you're banished. Lemieux will trade you without even a second thought."

"He'll like you. Everyone likes you. You Mr. Freaking Congeniality." I smile because I'm trying to make fun of him a little bit but I honestly mean it. My brother's a great guy.

"Can I bring Ness with me?" I ask hopefully. "Pretty please?"

"You two are trouble together" He groans into the phone. "Is she finished with school for the semester?"

"Yes actually. She should be in editing hell like the rest of the film students but she has her act together and got her documentary done yesterday. Almost 2 weeks early. We had a wrap party last night," I say and stifle a yawn.

"Bar star' He snarks before adding casually "Yeah fine. Bring the hippie chick."

I grin. "Hold on."

I slip off my bed, open my bedroom door and pad down the hall. Ness is exactly where I left her last night at 4am - stretched out on the couch in her blue tie-dyed silk mini dress.

"Wanna go to Pittsburgh for a few weeks?" I ask and lean over and give her a small shove.

"I think I might barf," she moans back.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Pittsburgh in November? What the hell for?"

"Clay is now a Penguin."

"Oh," she opens her eyes and they're big and brown and bloodshot but filled with interest. "Is that good or bad."

I shrug. "Right now it's just different."

She thinks for a moment and I can hear Clay breathing impatiently in my ear.

"I've never been to Pittsburgh," she smiles. "I'm in."

"She's in," I repeat happily.

"I'll buy the tickets now and email you the itinerary. I'm hoping to get you on the 10pm out of LAX."

"Great. See you tomorrow," I tell him and pause. "C?"

"What?"

"I have a good feeling about this."

"Sure," is all he says before hanging up.

I stare at my phone and fight the instinct to call my parents. It's the first thing I'm sure he wanted to do too.

Vanessa watches me through hungover eyes. "Seriously, are the Penguins a good thing?"

"They've got the most talented player in the history of the game as their Captain and they're a stronger Stanley Cup contender than the Canadiens are right now," I explain to my hockey illiterate best friend.

She nods. "Is playing with a hot shot a good thing?"

I pause and smile. "My dad would tell Clay that Crosby can do nothing but elevate Clay's game. Being around someone that good makes everyone else work harder and perform better."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Basically," I nod and tuck my tangled hair behind my ear. "But it's more believable from dad."

She gives me a small sympathetic smile. I smile back and head back into my room to start packing.

I miss mom and dad the most at times like this, when I have to try to channel their nurturing attitudes. They were always so happy and proud of us no matter what we did or what new challenge or hurtle we faced they motivated us and kept us thinking positively.

I like to think that since they died we've done a pretty good job of keeping each other on the right track and channeling their positivity but…. It would be so much better if they were still here.


	2. Chapter 2

"_I'm strong on the surface  
Not all the way through  
I've never been perfect  
But neither have you." __**Linkin Park**_

There was no practice this morning because the game was at 2pm but Coach asked me and a few others to lace up for some drills. They needed to test out the new guy.

I walk into the dressing room sipping my Venti Non-Fat Sugar Free Vanilla latte. Tably is there and Brooksy and at first I think the giant hulking guy with his back to me next to Tanger is Geno. But then he turns and I realize it's the guy I was googling last night.

Clay Morgan looks up as he finishes taping his stick and sees me.

"Hey," he says casually, then rests his stick against the wall, takes a step toward me and extends his hand.

"Hi," I shake his hand. It's enormous. He's another giant like Geno. "Welcome to the club."

He smiles. "Thanks."

I walk over to my locker and start to undress. Clay finishes dressing when Dan, our head of Player Personnel, comes in and takes him out of the dressing room to talk about temporary player housing.

Jordy and Geno wander in from the weight room and Clay stops to shake their hands too.

As soon as Clay is out of earshot Jordan slides over next to me. "When did we get a Morgan brother?"

"Yesterday," I reply. "It's crazy he got here already."

"Is he playing tonight?" Brooks wants to know and I shrug.

"Do we like him?" Max asks and I laugh.

"We don't not like him, Maxie," I reply and pull on my shoulder pads.

"Kid's dad was a great goalie coach," Brooks pipes in as he ties his skate laces. "Was a legend at BU. When he died I swear the whole university was crushed."

"His dad died?" That sucks, I think and wonder how I didn't come across that in my internet search.

Brooks nods. "Yeah his parents died in a car crash in 2001. I was still at BU at the time."

"Bad," Geno says which is clearly an understatement but the best he can come up with in English.

I just nod my head and as I finish getting dressed I can't help but run numbers in my head. According to wikipedia he was born in '85 which means he was 16 when his parents died. If my parents died at 16 god knows what the hell would have happened to Taylor and I or if I'd have ended up as successful as I am.

Brutal. Now I _want_ to like the kid. I hope he's good out there.

The drills are incredibly light. But Clay is giving it 110%. And despite trying his best, Flower isn't able to stop all his shots.

It's a good sign.

When Coach finally blows the whistle and ends it we take our time skating back off the ice. And I slide up beside him.

"Good work out there," I say casually.

"Thanks," he replies with a small smile.

"You playing tonight?"

He shrugs. "Mr. Lemieux is working it out now. He's hopeful."

I smile. "You can call him Mario."

We reach the boards and he moves and offers me the chance to step off first.

"McKinnon find you a place to squat till you get something permanent?" I want to know as I pull off my helmet.

"I'm at the Hilton for a day or two," Clay explains. "He gave me a list of furnished rentals we'll check out this week."

We…. He said "we". I try not to show any reaction on my face but this news truly bums me out.

"The wife?" I ask calmly as we reach the dressing room.

He laughs at that. "No."

"No wife?" Max repeats, picking up the last bit of our conversation and making it his own.

"Nah," he shakes his head.

"Bon!" Max gives an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Another wingman. Glad to hear it."

Clay looks amused by this but says nothing.

I start to strip out of my practice gear in silence.

"We're playing your brother tonight," Jordan says and Clay nods. "Any tips?"

Clay thinks about it as he wraps a towel around his waist. "He loves to shoot high right. It's his go to. That is the shot he'll take 95 percent of the time. And if you keep grinding him on the boards he'll get frustrated and take a penalty. Every time."

Jordan looks thrilled with getting the information.

He nods and walks towards the showers but slaps Jordy lightly on the shoulder as he passes. "I expect the inside scoop when we play the Rangers or Hurricanes."

Jordan smiles. "Always."

Once again when he's out of earshot Clay's the subject of discussion.

"He's single," Max muses. "I like him."

"You like anyone who will help you hunt tail," Brooks says as he starts unlacing his skates.

"Yep," Max agrees and then he shoves him playfully.

"Just because he's single doesn't mean he'll be a wingman," Jordy reminds Max. "Look at Sid."

"I have a girlfriend," I remind them for the hundredth time.

"Right," Max replies in a tone you'd give a 6 year old who is talking about an imaginary friend.

"Banging a chick twice in a year doesn't make her your girlfriend Sidney," Jordan lectures me with an evil grin.

"Thank god that's the truth or else Tably would have 18 girlfriends." Brooks snarks.

"Mais non! Je ne dors jamais avec un fille deux fois," Max argues.

Everyone laughs.

"We email and talk all the time," I mutter but only half-heartedly. The truth is I hadn't talked to Kathy in almost 2 weeks. And the guys we're right, we'd only ever hooked up twice and the last time was almost 2 months ago.

Later, I head back out to my car to grab my ipod which I forgot. I see Clay getting into a lemon yellow Volkswagon Beattle Bug.

He sees me and instantly looks horrified.

"It's a rental," he explains, turning red. "I swear I thought I was getting and SUV."

I laugh out loud.

"The guys are going to haze you mercilessly if they see it," I warn before asking. "Where you headed?"

We don't usually leave the rink with a 2pm game start.

"Gotta pick someone up at the airport. But I'll be back in time to suit up. Mario said the paperwork is done," Clay explains. "I'm looking forward to playing with you guys."

"Looking forward to it too" I nod. "See ya tonight."

I watch him cram his 6'4 frame into that ridiculous chick car and laugh.

_Forgetting all the hurt inside  
You've learned to hide so well  
Pretending someone else can come  
And save me from myself."_ _**Linkin Park**_

He looks casual and relaxed and that's a good thing. I follow along beside him and hope that I look as calm as he does. Inside I'm a freaking ball of nerves. I hope he's not.

I glance up. He's jaw is relaxed and his eyes are soft as he stares down the length of the hall we're traveling in the bowels of the Pens home arena.

He stops in front of an elevator and points.

"Take these," he hands me two black passes with giant penguins on them. "Go up here to the third level. There's supposed to be a door to your left and down that hallway are the boxes. You're in 3."

I nod glancing at the tickets and open my mouth to speak when his phone buzzes and he pulls it out of this pocket. He glances at the screen and smiles.

"Bitch," he mumbles.

"Dean?"

Clay chuckles and nods as he texts back.

"What did he say?" Vanessa wants to know.

"That he's going to school me so hard in front of the home crowd the Penguins fans will think Lemieux has lost his mind for ever taking me on." Clay tells us and I roll my eyes.

"What juvenile egotistic put down are you going to respond with?" I ask dryly not surprised or impressed with my brother's antics.

"Sabourin is going to make you his bitch and I'm going to help him."

"This is a side to hockey ESPN doesn't cover," Nessa mutters.

I just smile and hit the button for the elevator. The doors open and Vanessa and I step inside, I hold the door open with my hand and ask him "Where are we meeting afterward?"

"Parking lot," he tells me and glances down as his phone buzzes again. "Be good up there. Don't embarrass me or anything."

"So flashing my tits at the jumbotron is out then?" I question and he looks disgusted.

The elevator doors close and Ness turns to me. "I didn't get to tell him good luck."

"Good. Wishing him good luck before a game is bad luck."

"It is? Why?" She looks confused.

"I don't know why," I respond. "Why is the sky blue?"

The doors ping and open and we step off and I'm about to reach for the handle on the door to the left when it swings open and suddenly I'm knocked completely off-balance by a male chest hitting me square in the face.

"Oh god! Sorry!" I feel hands reach out and grab me by my elbows and steady me.

I grab the forearms of the guy who both assaulted and saved me and struggle to regain my balance in my high heeled, knee high leather boots.

"I was rushing. I didn't see you. Sorry!"

"It's okay," I look up to find his face – Sidney Crosby's face – pink with embarrassment and grim with remorse. "I'm fine. It's fine. I promise."

His grip slowly loosens on my arms. "You're sure?"

I nod and he lets go.

"Hi." Vanessa says behind me.

He glances at her and smiles tightly. "Hi."

He looks down at me again and there are a million questions racing through my head. Why is he up here? Is he not playing tonight? Why is he so much better looking in person? I thought his eyes were darker than this. I thought he was taller. I thought…

"I really have to go."

"Yes," I agree like an idiot. "Go."

"Sorry again."

"It's fine."

And then he slips into the elevator and disappears.

Vanessa looks at me with impatient brown eyes as I stare after him.

"You have no idea who that was do you?" I ask and she blinks and shakes her head. "That was the one and only Sidney Crosby."

"All I know is he was a hottie." She grins, her big brown eyes twinkling. "Hockey player right?

"He is THE hockey player." I say not sure why I sound as excited as I am or why my heart is fluttering. "The Wayne Gretzky of our generation."

She nods but clearly just doesn't give a crap. "Well, this new Gretzky is way more smoking hot than the first Gretzky."

We make our way through the door Sidney came out of and make our way down the hall. Vanessa looks back over her shoulder like she expects Sidney to be following us.

"He was gorgeous," I admit in a hushed voice. "Way hotter than on TV."

"Pretty eyes," Nessa muses aloud.

"Pretty lips," I add and run my own tongue out along my bottom lip.

When we find box 3 we are greeted by two young, pert blonde wearing pink and black Pens jerseys. There are a few other guys in suits standing around the buffet table. We smile demurely at them and make our way to seats in the front row.

Ness then goes and grabs some of the food and returns with a heaping plate of Kobe beef sliders, popcorn and bacon wrapped scallops. She also hands me a Corona.

"I know you're too nervous to eat but you're never too nervous to drink," she tells me and winks.

I love Ness. She's the best best friend a girl could ask for. I push the lime wedge into the beer and take a sip.

The box gets more crowded and a few people come over and say hello introducing themselves as the agent of so-and-so or a Pens scout of whatever. I can barely pay attention. I just want the game to start.

The lights dim and the players come out and I find myself scanning both sides of the ice. I see Dean instantly and then find Clay on the bench. I try my best to avoid looking at number 17. I will not allow Ryan Kesler to cloud my thoughts tonight.

"Half their faces are covered by those damn helmets and they're all padded up… so how do hockey players manage to look so freaking hot?" Ness wants to know.

"I have no idea," I reply and my eyes land on 87.

In the history of my brothers' careers I had never met him. I had seen him play in Montreal against Clay last year but never seen him in person, without all the equipment. I knew he was cute. But damn…. He's down right gorgeous.

The game starts and Clay is on the bench. Dean is on the ice playing left wing next to 17. I watch him line up with Jordan Staal. 17 wins the draw and gets the puck to Dean. But it suddenly becomes clear to me that Staal has Dean's number because he checks him into the boards and holds him there a little longer than necessary, but not long enough to draw the penalty.

This goes on for most of the first until Dean finally draws a penalty for slashing. I roll my eyes.

Clay totally told his new teammates how to anger his big brother.

Clay has completed two shifts and managed to get a strong shot on net, which the giant Italian Montrealer Roberto Luongo stops, but then collapses. The arena goes silent as Vancouver's trainer comes running onto the ice and the Canuck players mill around nervously.

"He pulled his groin," I announce. "Badly."

"Really?" A suit who introduced himself as the agent of Maxime Tablot says with a smirk. "And what makes you think that, honey?"

"The way he went down," I reply coolly trying not to let hiss misogynistic comment get under my skin. "He'll have to be pulled. He'll also have to be helped off the ice and won't be able to put weight on one of this skates. Judging by the way he rolled over, I'm betting it's the left."

A few minutes later Luongo is indeed helped off the ice his left skate nowhere near the ice and I smile smugly. The sleezy agent is staring at me.

"She was a goalie," Vanessa explains with a smile.

"And the daughter of a goalie coach," I add smiling.

The Canucks score shortly after that and I can see tension rise on the Pens bench.

When the second starts Therrien has bumped Clay up from the third line to the second and I realize with dread that means he's out there for a face off with Ryan.

"Fuck," I whisper and realize with a cold knot forming in my stomach that my brother never did unequivocally promise not to leave Ryan alone.

"What?" Ness wants to know.

But before I can say anything, seconds after the puck drops and Kes wins the draw and tries to skate away, Clay comes up behind him and crosschecks him hard in the back.

"I'm going to murder him," I say harshly and feel anger and panic surge through my body.

Kes jumps up from where he fell and turns on Clay, but Dean is already there, holding his little brother my the jersey and trying to push him backward. Clay is yelling something and it makes me cringe to think what that might me. Clay shoves at Dean and then reaches over him and cuffs Ryan with his gloved hand on the side of the face. Now Beiksa is skating in and Cook yipping. It's turning into a tangle of Blue jerseys and black ones.

The next thing you know Dean shoves Clay so hard he loses his balance and falls back onto the ice.

The refs jump in putting Clay and Dean, in the box.

I'm so angry and upset that I'm shaking.

"I told him to let it fucking go," I hiss and cover my face with my hands. "I said I was over it."

"Clearly C is not over it," Vanessa replies tartly. "Good on him, that Kes asshole deserves a punch."

"Yeah because that is going to make a fabulous impression with his new team," I answer.

And then things go from bad to worse as Kesler scores on the powerplay.

In the end the Penguins lose 3-1 to the Canucks and as Ness and I get up and head through the somber halls filled with disappointed Penguins staff and VIPs, I can't wait to get home and beat the crap out of my brother.


	3. Chapter 3

"_How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable  
So condescending unnecessarily critical  
I have the tendency of getting very physical  
So watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle."__** Maroon 5**_

The dressing room is expectedly quiet.

Nobody likes losing. Granted nobody hates it as much as me but nobody likes it.

I pull off my jersey and pull off my shoulder pads and throw my black Pens hat over my damp hair as they let the media in. I watch as the majority of them beeline for Morgan and I'm not at all surprised.

For one thing he's new and that fight with Kesler was unexpected – startling even. No one knew what brought it on but everyone – including me – wanted to know.

I was on the bench at the time and I didn't see any reason why Morgan would go after Kesler. He didn't slash Clay or hook him. And Morgan isn't known to be an instigator, stirring the pot for no reason or starting a fight for entertainment or team motivation purposes.

With the fans yelling and clapping and the guys banging their sticks I couldn't make out all of the words being exchanged on the ice between them. What I did hear come out of Clay's mouth was "Spineless" , "Cocksucker" and "Bastard" which was far from helpful. Kesler yelled something about "Not your place" and I swear he said "I'm sorry." Dean Morgan just seemed to be repeating "C stop. Stop Clay. Listen to me, stop!" over and over.

I listen now, in the silence of our loss, as Clay talks about playing for the Pens giving the typical "Everyone's nice/it's a good team/I'm happy to be here" lines. Then one of the reporters from TSN asks him about the fight.

"You got into it there with Ryan Kesler. What brought that on?"

Clay pauses a moment, running a hand over his damp brown hair. "I hit him and he didn't like it."

"But the crosscheck was a pretty frustrated move for a game that was still scoreless at the time," An guy ascertains.

Clay shrugs and blinks his green eyes innocently. "I don't know what to tell you. It was a hit. He didn't like it. The refs didn't like it. It's over with."

"Your brother didn't like it either." A reporter from ESPN points out.

Clay smiles at that and almost laughs. "I think Dean will get over it."

And that was it. They may not be satisfied but they aren't getting anything else so the gaggle of media head my way.

I give them my standard schtick reminding them that we've won 7 of the last 10. We had chances we just couldn't capitalize, Vancouver did capitalize. Blah, blah, blah.

What I don't say is that I think Therrien's decision to bench Flower tonight was ridiculous. Or that Therrien playing musical chairs with the lines also didn't do us any favors. I can never say those things, I can only think them.

And then, unsatisfied with Clay's vagueness, they ask me about the fight.

"I wasn't on the ice so I don't know all the details," I shrug. "It is what it is. I don't think it cost us or anything. We answered that goal with our own. It was the next two we didn't answer."

The media is ushered out and we go about our regular cool down. Therrien comes in just to say no practice tomorrow and he'll see us on Monday. He's angry, we can tell by the tightline to his jaw and the way his fists are balled up at his sides but Mario has talked to him about berating us and he's begrudgingly stopped –for now.

When I get out of the shower Max is standing there in a towel meticulously styling his hair.

"Nous allons sortir," Max tells me. "And you're coming. Pas D'excuses."

"Yeah. Okay," I drop my towel and pulled on my boxer briefs.

Max turns to stare, shocked I didn't put up a fight.

"Are you okay?" he wants to know.

I smirk. "Ha. Ha. Look, we don't have a game until Wednesday and I feel like a beer."

He's happy I've seen things his way. "Good. We need to cheer Flower up. And shake off that loss. And test out Morgan's wingman abilities."

I smile. Clay Morgan looks up from where he is buttoning his pants.

"You in?" I ask him.

"I…" he falters.

"Mon dieu, tabernac," Max swears and groans. 'Another dead fish like Sid."

"No, no," Clay argues and glances at me. "I mean not that you're a dead fish, Cros. But I want to go out. I just… my brother isn't heading back to Vancouver until tomorrow. I said we'd catch up."

"Bring him." Max says.

"Really?"

"Yeah sure," Max smiles. "Jordan brings Eric and Marc out sometimes after we play them."

"Okay," he still seems nervous.

We all finish getting changed, leaving the suits behind and putting on jeans and T shirts we all keep on hand at the rink for nights like this when we don't want to wear our game day suits out.

As we leave the building, heading towards the player's parking lot, Clay falls in step beside me.

"Thanks for backing me up with the media," he tells me.

I nod. "It was a weird fight though. What happened? Did he say something?"

I knew first hand that Kesler could be a bit of a lippy asshole.

"He's an asshole," is all Clay says. "He needed to be taught a lesson."

Before I can say anything else I notice two girls walking toward us. One of them is coming at us quickly and she looks pissed. I recognize her almost right away. She's the hot girl I almost ran over before the game.

She walks past Jordan, Talby and Fleur who all turn and stare at her ass.

"Oh shit," Clay mumbles as the pretty girl stops directly in front of us.

"What did I say to you?" she asks furiously and pokes him square in his chest. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Can we talk about this later?" He asks through clenched teeth.

"Why?" she questions and motions towards the guys. "They all know how stupid you are. They saw it."

"Hey baby," Max says soothingly stepping forward and smiling angelically at her. "Why don't we all calm down and discuss whatever this is over a drink, oui?"

"Je m'excuse," she apologizes in perfect French. "But drinks aren't going to make this better."

"I did what I had to do," Clay snaps at her angrily. "Get over it."

I glance at the tall, pretty girl with wavy black hair standing behind the angry beautiful one and she smiles sympathetically and gives me a little half shrug.

"Now your team thinks you're an erractic asshole," she complains harshly. "that's fabulous!"

"We don't," I interrupt.

"Yes you do," she corrects me flatly and I raise an eyebrow in shock.

Jordan and Max start laughing at that.

Great. Not only does he have a girlfriend, she's a crazy bitch. Even better.

"Back down little pitbull," comes a calm, jovial voice from behind me.

I turn and see Dean Morgan lopping toward us.

"You're pretty much the only person who seems like an erractic asshole right now, kiddo" Dean warns her.

"Shut up," she snaps.

"Umm… he's kinda right," Jordan admits and everyone except the crazy girlfriend laughs.

Dean walks over and wraps an arm around her. "Let's get some dinner. You're more rationale when you're full."

She doesn't argue. Looking a little sheepish suddenly, she lets Dean turn her around and walk her toward the lemon yellow Bug.

"Where we headed guys?" Dean asks.

"Smiling Moose!" Jordan calls out happily.

"I'll drive," I tell the boys and Jordy, Max and Flower climb into my SUV while Dean, the dark haired girl, Clay and his batshit girlfriend climb into the Bug.

"Wow!" Max says with a grin as he buckles his seatbelt. "She's a live one. I bet she's great in bed!"

"I don't know if all the sex in the world is worth that amount of crazy," I mutter.

"Trust me as someone who has had their fair share of crazy," Max winks. "It is worth it."

Jordan giggles in the back seat like a ten year old. I shake my head, unconvinced.

"She's going to be trouble," I lecture. "She's going to be up in his face all the time about everything. He's going to be distracted. Maybe that's why the Habs had no problem dumping him. Maybe that's why he's in a bit of a points slump."

"Oh relax," Max says and pats my shoulder. "He's here now. I'll introduce him to the wonders of Pittsburgh Puck Bunnies and he'll ditch her in no time."

For once, I actually found myself hoping Max would corrupt someone.

"Elle est tres tres belle," Flower says from the back seat. "Plus jolie que beaucoup des filles je connais ici."

"That's because you don't know the right girls," Max argues with a grin.

We all laugh but I kind of agreed with Flower. She was way prettier than any of the girls I'd seen in this city.

We pull into the parking lot for the Smiling Moose, our usual hang out for beers and food after an early game. The yellow bug pulls in behind us.

I watch as the foursome climb out.

"Nice wheels. Morgy," Jordan asks with a smirk.

"Umm.. the rental place was out of SUVs," Clay confesses.

Everyone laughs – except the crazy girlfriend who only looks slightly less angry than before.

Inside we find a big hightop table and order beers and burgers.

Dean smiles at us and raises his glass. "To a good game."

"Easy for you to say, you won," Snarks Jordan.

"It's because you played your back-up," Dean responds and smiles at Marc who looks thrilled with that comment.

"I don't think we ever got formally introduced," The tall dark haired one says, her eyes on Jordan who is sitting next to her. "I'm Vanessa."

He shakes her hand and gives her a lopsided grin. "Jordan."

"The crazy lady is Bella," Dean pipes in as Bella swats him from her position between him and Clay.

The boys say hi to both Vanessa and Bella.

"We bumped into each other earlier," Bella says to me with a small, humble smile on her perfectly glossed lips.

I nod and smile back a little stiffly. "Yeah... I remember."

She looks suddenly shy and stares into her beer.

"So are you Dean's girlfriend?" Jordan asks Vanessa in the most unsubtle attempt at subtly. Obviously he's trying to figure out if hitting on her is a good idea or not.

"Oh God no!" she says like it's the strangest thing anyone has ever asked. "I'm Bella's best friend."

"Oh," Jordan says, shocked, but then he smiles. "In that case, let me buy you a drink."

Everyone laughs at that, even Crazy Bella. I can't help but think Clay does know how to pick 'em – looks-wise. I mean she's pretty, even batshit crazy yelling like in the parking lot. But now that she's relaxed and smiling, she's really truly stunning.

Her eyes are like this awesome dark green color. Moss green, I guess you would call them and her skin is slightly golden and her body… well maybe it's the skinny jeans and the tight black v neck T and the sexy knee-high boots but she's tiny yet curvy with the perkiest boobs I have ever seen.

"So Dean, you got a girlfriend back in Vancouver," Max asks as he finishes both his burger and his Heineken.

Dean shakes his head vigorously. "I haven't met the right girl," he says and then grins. "And I don't intend to meet her until I'm done meeting all the wrong girls."

Max laughs loudly at that. I can tell it's the best line he has ever heard and I know we'll all hear it again and again out of his mouth.

"Clay is the romantic one," Dean rolls his eyes and points at his brother.

Clay shakes his head in argument.

"Yeah he does stupid shit like try to defend people's honor and crap like that," Bella pipes up.

I can't help but think that it's pretty harsh to talk about your boyfriend like that in front of his buddies – or anyone for that matter.

Clay doesn't seem to mind all that much. He just rolls his eyes and mutters something before draining his corona and going to the bar for more.

Bella hops off her chair and beelines for the restroom. I watch male heads turn to stare as she goes.

I turn back and find Dean looking at me. "She's not really a psychopath."

I smile at that and nod but say nothing.

"She worries about Clay too much," Dean continues. "And also Clay doesn't always start fights randomly and take ridiculous penalties."

"So what was that about?" Max asks the question we all want answered.

Dean is silent for a minute and his eyes float left to where Bella had been and then to the bar where Clay is ordering his next drink. "Clay doesn't like Kes's… style of play."

"So what did Kes do. Mouth off? Something personal?" I want to know. There are a few guys who resort to personal attacks on the ice. Usually something about your girlfriend sucking their cock last night.

Dean sips his drink again. "Trust me, Kesler had it coming to him."

No one argues with that.

"And trust me again when I say it won't happen again. Clay will be over it next time we play you guys," Dean assures us.

"I have another question for you," Max replies seriously.

"Okay."

"Blondes or brunettes?" Max asks seriously but he starts to smirk.

"Blondes," Dean replies with his own smirk. "Definitely."

"Okay then," Max points to two girls in short skirts and low cut tops attempting to play darts a few feet away. "I'll take the brunette and you take the blonde."

I watch Dean and Max saunter off with their confident swaggers and their cocky smirks. It's like watching sleezy twins. I say that with both judgement and jealousy. It's not that I want to fuck every girl I meet, but I don't like being such a monk either. But I don't have a choice. The league needs me to be Mr. Congeniality.

I sigh and finish my beer.


	4. Chapter 4

"_Everyone believes  
In how they think it ought to be  
Everyone believes  
And they're not going easily." __**John Mayer**_

I wonder back from the restroom and the only person sitting at the table is Sidney. I hesitate as he smiles tightly and pays the waitress for a fresh beer. So far that boy always looks like he's somewhere between depressed and stressed. And I don't know why, but the thought of sitting alone with him and making small talk has me feeling panicked.

But then I notice Jordan, the goalie Marc and Nessa at the bar. Vanessa is feeding them both lemon wedges as they slam empty tequila shot glasses on the counter. I do not want to do shots with hockey players. And Nessa shouldn't be doing that either – we know where it leads.

A quick scan to my left and I easily find both Max and my darling oldest brother Dean in a booth by the pool table with chicks almost sitting in their laps. So not going to be joining that party.

Looks like it's just me and the very pretty, very talented NHL superstar.

I sit down across from him and he smiles but it's wary. And now I'm uber uncomfortable. Great.

"So…. Do you like Pittsburgh?" I ask like an idiot because I have no idea what to say to him.

He nods and sips his beer. "Yeah. A lot of the guys complain about the cold but Nova Scotia wasn't exactly warm so I'm used to it."

"I miss winter," I tell him. "I used to love having a fire roaring and turning off all the lights except candles and just watching the snow fall."

He cocks his head a little and those ridiculously pretty light brown eyes grow inquisitive. "But there's snow in Montreal."

"I don't live in Montreal, only Clay does," I explain. "I live in California. Los Angeles. Well, technically West Hollywood."

He looks perplexed. His head is tipped, making the ends of this thick, wavy dark hair fall over his pale forehead. My fingers tingle with the urge to brush his hair back for him. Which is ridiculous. Why do I want to touch him so badly? I don't even know him.

"Why?" he blurts out and it shocks me. I guess he can tell because his voice softens and he blushes slightly. "I mean I just thought you'd live with Clay."

"I'm in school," I explain quickly. "I do… did… visit Clay in Montreal but I never lived there. I visit Dean a lot in Vancouver. I may move there when I graduate this spring."

"Dean?" he looks confused again. I'm beginning to think he's not as intelligent as he appears on TV. That's sad.

The waitress appears at out table and drops a shot and a frothy pink martini in front of me.

She points to the bar where Jordan is licking salt off Nessa's neck. Great. They've moved on to body shots. God help her.

"The shot is from them," she informs me and then turns and points to a tall blonde guy hanging out by the pool table. "The drink is from him."

I look at the guy. I've never seen him before in my life but he's cute in an Abercrombie and Fitch sorta way. I smile at him and raise the martini glass and take a sip. He smiles back.

I turn to Sidney who is watching this with a strange look on his face.

"Shouldn't you decline that drink?" he asks me pointedly.

"Why? Is he a hockey player?" I ask with a feeling of doom starting in my belly.

Sidney glances over at the guy and back at me. "No. I mean not in the NHL anyway."

"Then I'll take the drink," I reply and hop off my bar stool. "And go thank him in person."

I walk away and even though the guy is completely adorable and not a hockey player, for some reason my mind is still on Sidney.

Why does he care who I get drinks from? Is he interested? A heat rises to my cheeks at that thought. Of course he's not interested! My god, he's Sidney Crosby, he could have any chick in this bar – in Pittsburgh – there is no way he's interested in me. Besides, he's a hockey player. he is THE hockey player. He's probably worse to women than the rest of the entire NHL combined.

"_Belief is a beautiful armor  
But makes for the heaviest sword  
Like punching under water  
You never can hit who you're trying for." __**John Mayer**_

I watch her, stunned, as she wanders off wiggling her sexy little hips. She is seriously going to flirt with that guy who bought her a drink? In front of her boyfriend and all his teammates?

That's just stupid. No that's more than stupid, it's disrespectful. Why the hell is he with this girl? I mean yeah, she's pretty but come on. Is Clay really that vapid?

I finish my beer as Max and a pretty, albeit slutty, brunette plops down in stools across from me. In actuality Max plops down on a stool, the brunette plops down on Max.

She reaches out and drinks the shot Bella left on the table. And then she lets out a loud, obnoxious hiccup and giggles.

Classy.

Max smiles at me. "What's Clay's girlfriend doing over there?"

I glance at her again and realize she's got her phone out as the guy talks to her. Clearly she's taking his number.

"I think she's picking up that guy." I say completely stunned.

Max laughs. "Well if she is, watch out, here comes trouble!"

Clay is walking back towards us from the restrooms. He sees Bella and beelines for her.

"Ah shit! Is he going to start a fight?" I ask, panic taking over. "He can't start a fight. It'll get picked up in the press. Mario will kill us."

I stand up but Max puts a hand on my shoulder. "Relax, mon ami."

I watch as Clay wraps his giant arm around Bella's neck. It's a weird move because it's not possessive or boyfriend-like at all. He's got her in almost a friendly headlock. Like Max or Staalsy has done to me a million times.

In one fluid motion he turns her and guides her away from the guy. They start back towards us.

Jordan, Marc and Nessa also make their way back to the table.

"I think we're calling it a night," Clay announces as they rejoin us.

I search his face. He doesn't look angry at all. He must be a really great actor.

"Really?" Nessa says unable to hide her disappointment. "I was just starting to have fun."

Her chocolate eyes are fixed on Jordan. Jordan grins back at her and winks.

"You can stick around," he tells her. "I can make sure you get home…. At some point."

Bella and Nessa exchange looks. I've seen that a thousand times between girls. They're looking to get approval from each other. Bella nods hesitantly and gives her best friend a wary smile.

"I wouldn't mind staying too," Bella confesses.

"Forget about it," Clay responds mussing her hair like you would a five year old. "If I let you stay you'll go home with Captain America over there and then Dean will kill me."

"Dean?" I can't help but blurt out. "What about you?"

Clay turns to me with a wry smile. "I try to stay out of her love life."

"Yeah sure you do," she snaps and gives him a wilting stare with those pretty green eyes.

"I'm going to let Dean know we're leaving," Bella pivots gracefully out of Clay's clutches and disappears.

"I know I've only known you for like 5 minutes but you two have one hell of a fucked up relationship," Jordan announces.

"Relationship?" Nessa and Clay repeat in stereo.

"Yeah…." Jordan looks suddenly unsure. "Bella's your girlfriend right?"

Clay's face morphs into a look of sheer horror. Nessa lets out a huge howl of laughter.

Dean and Bella arrive back at the table and look around confused.

"Jordan… girlfriend…. You…." Nessa sputters out trying to explain through her fits of laughter.

"What?" Bella looks completely at a loss. Her green eyes swing around the faces at the table and land on me. "What is she talking about?"

"You' dating Clay," I mumble. Obviously something is not right about that statement and I feel really stupid saying it aloud suddenly.

Bella's face grows just as horrified as Clay's. "Dude! He's my BROTHER!"

I blink and suddenly can't stop my mouth from hanging open. It hits me like a ton of bricks. I saw her on the internet last night. In that photo with Clay. And I remember reading about the sister. I just….

"You're a goalie!" I blurt out like the complete moron I am right now.

She smiles. "Yeah. For the UCLA Bruins Womens Hockey Team. How did you know?"

"I read that…" I mumble.

"I can't believe you thought she was my girlfriend!" Clay exclaims still looking like he might throw up. "That's gross."

"Well she does ride our asses like a ball and chain sometimes," Dean pipes up helpfully. A devious smile on his lips. "Why get a wife when you have a sister to nag you?"

"Shut up Mr. Commitmentphobe," Bella snarks with a smile. "Don't blame your slutty ways on me."

"Sid should be happy!" Max says and leans across the table to nudge me as he explains to the group. "He's convinced girlfriends aren't good for hockey careers. Now he doesn't have to worry!"

I glare at Max but he's too busy whispering something in his brunette puck bunny's ear to see it.

"Girlfriends mess up hockey careers huh?" Bella raises an eyebrow at me and I feel a blush rise to my cheeks.

"Sometimes. Yeah. I mean most times. It depends," Why am I suddenly unable to utter a complete sentence in front of her?

"Interesting theory," she says quietly and then adds bitingly. "Kinda melds well with my theory that hockey player aren't good for relationships."

Jordan lets out a giant howl at that. Flower slaps the table and Max actually calls out "Burn!" like a 6 year old. I say nothing. I just stare at the sticky wood table in front of me and start to peel the label off my empty bottle of Bud.

"See you boys another time," Bella announces airly and heads for the door.

Clay shakes his head and smirks. "She's not a huge fan of hockey players. Sorry guys."

He turns to his brother. "You bringing your friend back with you?"

"I was just getting to know her. It would be a shame to cut that off so suddenly," Dean says and turns and motions for one of the blonde that had been camping out on his lap to come over. "I mean she could be the one, right Max?"

Max laughs.

"Ness, be a good girl," Clay advises and turns to Jordan. "And Staalsy, she may not be my sister but I treat her like one. Got it?"

Jordan nods solemnly but there's a glimmer in his eye.

Clay, Dean and Dean's puck bunny follow Bella out the front door.

"Wow!" Flower says with a drunk giggle. "That's the hottest goalie I've ever seen. Besides me of course."

"How does something so tiny wear so many pads?" Jordan wanted to know.

"She must fall down a lot," Max notes but Nessa shakes her head.

"She's been UCLA Athlete of the Year two years in a row," Nessa announces and then points at me. "I bet even this one couldn't get one by her."

"That's a ballsy statement," Jordan laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulder.

I say nothing. I'm still stunned. She's Clay's sister. Wow. I guess I can see it now. All three of them have basically the same hair color, although Bella's is a little more reddish in color. And they all have green eyes – although Dean and Clay's are a little lighter than Bella's. The boys are both very tall but Bella isn't short. Probably about 5'7 I would guess.

Wow. His sister. His very hot sister.

Flower gives me a shove. "Je droit allez mantenant ou Veronique va etre tres pissed."

Well, at least someone other than me doesn't want to try and get an STD tonight. Even if his only reason is fear of his hot-tempered French girlfriend freaking out, I'm glad Flower wants to leave. It gives me an out.

"We're gonna head too boys," I announce and no one looks surprised. "You have fun."

Max waves, not bothering to take his head out off the brunette's neck. Jordan smiles at me and then challenges Ness to a game of pool.

Flower and I head out into the crisp Pittsburgh night. We flag a cab, because I don't need a DUI, and I notice Clay also left his car. Smart move.

As we climb into the cab, Flower turns to me.

"You going to cut him some slack now that he doesn't have a crazy girlfriend like me?"

I laugh. "You're crazy girlfriend keeps you in line."

"She's trouble that one eh?" he remarks but he's still smiling. "I gotta feeling Bella could give Max or Staalsy a run for their money."

I nod. "Yeah I bet she's a handful."

But the thought of Max or Staalsy anywhere near Clay's sister kinda makes my stomach turn. I shake my head.

"She clearly hates hockey players though so I don't think any of us have a chance."

Flower raises his eyebrow at that. "You want a chance?"

I shake my head furiously. "No. I didn't mean that. I was just saying… no."

He says nothing but he has a weird look on his face. We spend the rest of the cab ride in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

"_I don't wanna be the girl that has to fill the silence  
The quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth" __**Pink**_

I'm sweating buckets and my legs feel like jell-o as I leave the hotel gym. I'm also fighting a losing battle against a headache thanks to the booze I was downing last night.

I was definitely tipsy… maybe a little more than tipsy if I'm honest with myself. I mean I had to have been to be such a snarky bitch.

"_Kinda melds well with my theory that hockey player aren't good for relationships."_

I feel even hotter as my words float through my brain again. I totally said that in front of not only a table full of NHL players but in front of the best NHL player in decades.

Sidney Crosby must think I'm a total nutbar psycho bitch.

I press the elevator's "Up" button and wipe my face with my towel before taking some long gulps from my water bottle.

"Bella?"

I spin and like magic there is the one person I am too embarrassed to face today.

"Oh! Hi," I wipe at my sweaty, red face again.

He looks cool and fabulous in his jeans and this comfy charcoal gray thermal shirt that total shows off his perfectly sculpted upper body. I self-consciously pull my damp hair out of its ponytail and smooth the sides down.

"I was just coming to see Clay," he tells me. "Mario gave me some paperwork for him."

He holds up an envelope as if to prove it to me. I smile awkwardly.

"Okay," I say which is lame but I'm at a loss for words. "Do you want me to take it. Save you the trouble."

"It's no trouble," he replies easily his tongue running over his full lips before he smiles lightly. "Besides I have to talk to him."

The elevator dings and opens and an older couple get out. Sidney steps forward and makes a motion for me to step in. I scoot by him trying not to get too close because I'm fairly certain I stink.

He slides in after me and reaches out to press a button, while staring at me expectantly.

His eyes are so unbelievably beautiful. I usually go for blue eyes. Like, almost always. But maybe that's because I've never seen brown eyes in quite such a warm, copper color before.

"Floor?"

I shake my head and feel my face turning even redder. "Sorry! 15."

He hits the button and the doors slide close and we stare at each other.

"Hard workout?"

"Yeah. I've got a new program and it's kicking my ass." I swallow and take a sip of water and then just say it. "Sorry about last night."

He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Umm cuz I made that horrible comment about hockey players and relationships… among other things."

He smiles and it's soft and kind. "I work with Max. I get what a stereotypical hockey player is like."

I smile at that. Even before Clay started playing here I had heard of Maxime Talbot's antics.

"Anyway, I didn't need to be so harsh," I continue.

"Last night was a bit of a hot mess," he laughs self-consciously. "Afterall I was convinced you were dating your brother."

"Right," I laugh despite my embarrassment. "That was a little crazy."

"Let's just pretend the whole thing didn't happen," he suggests as the elevator slows to a stop and the doors open again.

"Deal," I reply happily and instantly start feeling relieved.

He lets me step out first, like a total gentleman.

The first thing we see down the hall is Nessa standing outside our room digging in her purse. Her hair is a little wild and when she glances up at me her big brown eyes are bloodshot and guilty looking.

"I think I lost my room key," she admits.

I try not to laugh. "I was just about to ask Sidney here for Jordan's address so we could tell the morgue where to find your body."

Sidney laughs softly beside me.

"Sorry, I should have text you or something," Vanessa replies sheepishly. I pull my room key card out of the small front pocket in my yoga pants and insert it in the door.

"Hey Sid," Nessa smiles at him, clearly embarrassed. "Bye Sid."

She disappears into our room and shuts the door. I turn to Sidney who still has a smile playing on his lips.

"Looks like she might have had a workout too," he says and now it's my turn to smile.

I knock on the door beside the one I'm sharing with Nessa. "Clay's in here."

The door opens a second later and Clay is standing there in sweats, shirtless with a coffee mug in his hand.

"Hey!" he's shocked to see Sidney there.

"Hey," Sid replies and holds out the envelope again. "Mario asked me to drop this off. Copies of paperwork."

"Right. Thanks," Clay replies.

Sidney looks at me and then back at Clay. "Also he wanted me to invite you and Bella to dinner tonight at his place."

"Really?" Clay sounded shocked. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yeah he does that all the time," Sidney assures him. "It's his way of welcoming your family into his family."

"That's really sweet," I say because I'm truly impressed. "Are you sure he doesn't mind me tagging along?"

"No not at all. He loves meeting family," Sidney tells me. "If you're an older player he invites you and your wife and kids and if you're a younger one like you or me he invites your parents."

I notice Sidney's nose scrunch up and his face suddenly freeze and I know instantly he knows about my parents. I tense. He runs a hand through his thick dark hair and clears his throat.

"So yeah having a sister come along is fine. It's great. And his wife Nathalie is a great cook," he rambles on.

"Great. We'll be there," Clay smiles easily. "That is unless we're out with the police search party looking for Vanessa."

"She came home a second ago," I assure him.

"Great, so I'll let Mario know you're in for dinner," Sidney replies and starts to back down the hall.

"Bye!" I wave. He smiles sadly and waves back.

Once he's in the elevator at the end of the hall and the doors have closed I turn to Clay.

"He knows," I groan.

"Knows what?"

"That mom and dad died," I elaborate and push past him into his room. "You could see it all over his face when he mentioned parents."

"So?"

"So I hate that," I reply and start to pick at the still warm leftover hash browns on his room service tray. "I hate that look of sympathy everyone gives us. Like we're orphans."

"We are orphans, Bells," Clay reminds me quietly.

"I hate it."

"I wasn't finished eating those," he tells me pointing to the hash browns I am decimating.

"You should go to the gym," I inform him and eat the last forkful of the fried potatoes. "Just because you don't play until Wednesday doesn't mean you can lie around shirtless all day and eat carbs."

"I was going to the gym," he replies. "And you need to get ready and go find me a home."

"Right," I nod and remember the list of five different furnished apartments he gave me yesterday. "I'm on it."

He ushers me out of the room and I promptly head into the one next door. Nessa's sprawled out on the still made bed she was supposed to sleep in last night. She's changed into an oversized sweatshirt and leggings and she's texting with a smile on her face.

"Jordan just challenged me to another pool game," she tells me with a grin.

"The loser buys shots again?" I ask.

"The loser takes off their clothes."

I raise and eyebrow. "Strip pool? He's a kinky one."

"I wouldn't know," she admits playing with a strand of her dark silky hair.

"You didn't sleep with him?" I can't believe it but she shakes her head.

"We talked," she explains grinning. "And made out like 16 year olds."

I smile. "I like it. I haven't had a good make-out session in forever."

I try not to remember the last great make-out session I had but can't stop images of Ryan lying half naked in my bed back in LA float across the inside of my head anyway.

I pull off my T shirt and toss it in the corner of the room. "Well I guess I don't have to worry about what you'll be doing tonight while I'm out."

"Out? Where ya going?" Nessa asks as I walk by her into the bathroom.

I push the door closed for privacy but leave it cracked an inch so we can talk.

"GM of the team, Mario Lemieux, invited Clay and I over for dinner," I explain.

"Cool, maybe you can use that time to convince Sidney Crosby you're not crazy," Nessa quips.

"He won't be there."

"I bet he will be," Nessa replies confidently. "He lives with Mario. Jordan told me."

"Why on earth does he live with the GM?" I questioned as I pull off my sports bra and peel out of my yoga pants.

"I don't know but he does," Vanessa says and pauses before adding. "Also, he was totally checking out your ass when you got off the elevator."

"What? Shut up!" I shield my naked body with the door but pop my head out to stare at her.

"Not kidding," she says looking at me with serious brown eyes. "He was staring at your butt. I swear it."

"Wow," I smile.

"You like him don't you?" Vanessa asks grinning.

"I don't know him," I argue and disappear from her view back into the bathroom. She knows me too well and would be able to read my face too easily.

"You think he's hot. You're attracted to him," she insists.

"He's stupid-hot. And yes he's attractive," I mumble because there is no use in denying it.

"Jordan says he's not a typical hockey player you know," Vanessa tells me. "He doesn't pick up random chicks or even go out with them much at all. In fact they call him Captain Virtue. But I don't think he knows that so please don't tell him."

I laugh at that. "Like when am I ever going to talk to him again."

"Tonight. At dinner," she reminds me and I turn on the shower.

Suddenly I'm not just nervous about this dinner. I'm excited too.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This is one of many reasons to come that I gave this story an "M" rating. :-)

_"We're up the block, your hands on me_  
_Pressing hard against your jeans..__Your tongue in my mouth  
__Trying to keep the words from coming out  
You didn't care to know  
Who else may have been here before." _**Bright Eyes**

My workout went pretty shitty. All I could think about was how stupid that comment about bringing your parents to dinner was. Fuck. I KNEW their parents were dead. Why did I say that?

Because she makes me nervous, that's why.

Fuck. Now she thinks I'm an insensitive asshole. She must.

And then in the showers afterward all I could think about was her body in that workout outfit. Those yoga pants…. Man she had a perfect ass. Truly perfect. I don't remember the last time I saw an ass like that. And she was glistening with sweat. And her chest was still heaving from her workout. And that ass…

I popped a boner in the fucking shower. Thank God it wasn't a practice day and none of the guys were working out too. Jesus. I had to turn the water to cold and think about my grandmother.

Now, as I get back into my car to drive home thinking about what I would say to her tonight, my phone buzzes.

It's a text from Kathy.

_I'm in Pitts. 12 hour layover on my way to a shoot. At the Hyatt Regency Airport. Are you in town or on the road?_

I stare at the text unblinking, my brain running a million miles an hour.

Kathy is pretty and nice and the sex is good. And after that little incident in the shower I clearly need a release. So why am I still sitting in my car staring at her text?

Another image of Bella Morgan in her yoga pants with her glistening skin and wavy auburn hair fills my head. My dick twitches.

I shake my head and text Kathy back.

_I'll see you soon. Gimme your room number._

She texts back her room number instantly and I start my car and head out of the arena parking lot.

My relationship with Kathy is…. Unique. I met her at some Abercrombie and Fitch fashion week party that Max dragged me to when we were in New York playing the Rangers last year. We exchanged numbers and text back and forth for a couple of weeks. Then I was in Los Angeles to shoot a Reebok commercial and she was there for some modeling thing and we met for drinks at my hotel which turned into sex in my hotel room. This happened another time when we were playing the Islanders a month or so ago.

I tell the guys she's my girlfriend because it keeps all the gay/virgin/monk jokes at bay. But in all honesty it wasn't an actual relationship. I didn't know her middle name or her favorite color or anything about her family and I didn't really care to know. She was what they guys called a bed buddy. And I was okay with that. Real girlfriends were too big a distraction.

Twenty minutes later I step off the elevator on the 6th floor of the Hyatt and knock on her door.

She swings it open instantly and greets me with a smile and nothing else. She's completely naked.

I laugh and push her into the room shutting the door firmly behind me.

"Wow," I say and she looks up at me with seductive hazel eyes. "That's quite the greeting."

She kisses me softly on the lips. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," I run my hand over her soft blond hair and kiss her harder than she kissed me. She responds by opening her mouth and sliding her tongue over mine.

As the kiss deepens her delicate hands start undoing my jeans and then she pushes them down over my butt. Her hands move under my shirt and I shiver with pleasure.

"I'm not the only one who should be naked," she whispers and her lips graze my throat.

I step away from her for a moment and kick off my shoes and step out of my jeans and pull my shirt over my head. She crawls up onto the queen sized bed and kneels in the center of it, naked, legs slightly spread and wags her finger at me.

"C'mere," she says with a smile.

I walk over to the bed and as my eyes take in her naked body I find myself wondering what Bella looks like without those yoga pants of hers.

I blink and try to focus on the beautiful model in front of me as she reaches out and pulls my underwear down over my hips. My semi-hard cock pops out.

"Me being naked only gets you to half mast?" she asks, disappointed.

"I think it's still in shock," I tell her because I can't tell her what's probably got my dick confused is my head is thinking of another girl.

"Maybe this will help," she whispers before her tongue slips out of her mouth and licks the length of my shaft.

Holy fuck that feels good.

She wraps one hand around my base as her mouth circles my tip and slides downward. My eyes flutter closed and my body tingles as she works her magic with her mouth.

I still can't help but imagine Bella, naked in front of me, her full lips around my dick. My balls start to tingle and I bit my bottom lip and grunt and then her lips retreat before I can cum.

I open my eyes to see Kathy crawling her way up my body. She wraps her arms around my neck, kisses me hard and pulls me down on top of her. I grind against her thigh and grab her earlobe between my lips and she moans in pleasure beneath me as she reaches for the silver packet she has already laid out on the nightside table.

Another reason I like Kathy. You never have to worry about contraception.

She tears the package and slides the condom over my aching cock.

"Fuck me baby," she whispers and I nudge her legs open and slide myself into her effortlessly.

We move together, our eyes closed, grunting, moaning and I can't get the image of Bella out of my head. I imagine her peeling away her sweaty work out clothes, revealing every inch of her flushed, glistening skin, her perfect ass, her perky tits….

Kathy moves her hips in a circular motion and whispers "I'm gonna cum" and as she tightens around me, my balls pull up and my eyes roll back in my head and then I'm seeing nothing but stars.

I collapse onto her in a daze and she pants underneath me, her fingernails grazing my back lightly.

"You never disappoint, Sid," she says breathlessly.

"I'm glad you called," I tell her and roll off her and onto my back beside her, suddenly exhausted. I pull the condom off and drop it into the waste basket under the nightstand.

"Me too," she whispers with a smile as she curls her body into my side, resting her head on my chest.

A few minutes later, as I slip into sleep, I wonder what Bella Morgan is doing right now.


	7. Chapter 7

_"And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance_  
_But fear is in your soul_  
_Some people call it a one night stand_  
_But we can call it paradise" _**Duran Duran**

I notice Clay give his sister a weird look as we step off the elevators and head down the hall toward the lobby of the hotel.

Bella notices it too and she glances down at herself self-consciously and then back up at him. "What?"

"You look good," he replies. "Like' all pretty and crap."

"Thanks asshole," she snaps half jokingly – but only half.

"It's just dinner with the GM. Why you trying so hard?"

Bella gives him one of her trademark glares. Bella is great at glaring. I try to channel her every time I'm pissed off.

"Well after that stupid fight with Kesler someone has to make a good impression," Bella snarks back and he rolls his eyes.

"Someone needed to let him know what he did to you was not okay," Clay lectures.

"Dean made that clear," Bella argues back and I suddenly feel very bad for Mr. Lemieux if he has to spend the night with these two. "I also made that clear. You did not need to add your two cents."

Clay opens his mouth to speak but I push my way in between the two of them and cup them both on their shoulders.

"Okay Morgans, relax," I coo as calmly as possible. "The Kesler thing is over with. Let's move on."

They both fall silent. Bella stops to check herself out in the mirror by the concierge's desk. I smile.

"You look amazing," I tell her. "The superstar will be impressed."

She catches my eye and tries to look innocent as she adjusts her dark green off the shoulder top and smoothes her black fitted pants.

"I just want to look respectable for the GM," she argues but I'm not buying it. "You're the one who thinks Crosby will be there. He never said he would be there."

"He'll be there," I assure her and she tries not to smile.

Just as we hit the middle of the lobby Jordan wanders through the front doors. He's impossible to miss. His 6'4 frame consists of the longest legs and arms I have ever seen. And he's so perfectly blonde, with such an intense, heavy brow and corn flower blue bedroom eyes. And when he walks…. It's slow and graceful. It's hard to take your eyes off him. So I don't.

"Stare much?" Bella gives me a shove but smiles.

Jordan walks over and he and Clay do one of those half-hug, half-chest bump things that boys do.

"Hey Bella," he says and smiles at her as she gives him a small wave.

"Ready?" he asks me and I nod.

"Don't forget your room key this time," Bella warns.

"Oh and Jordan…?" Clay calls out and Jordan turns back to face him.

"Like a sister buddy. Like a sister," Clay says sternly and Jordan grins but nods his understanding.

We head back out the way he entered and he puts his massive hand on the small of my back and leads me towards his Mercedes GL SUV. It's nice to be around someone so tall. Tall guys don't live in LA, I swear. I think it's because actors are most successful when they're in that 5'8 to 5'11 range not too short not too tall, just blandly average. So being 5'9 without heels it's really hard to find a guy that towers over me at home. Jordan is a treat.

He helps me into the SUV and shuts my door for me.

As we start to pull away he smiles at me. "I was thinking we could go back to my place and order in. Do you like sushi?"

"Love it," I confirm and smile.

"Thought so. All you La La Land types love that stuff." He's being a smart ass. And it's ridiculously attractive.

"We can eat steak instead, but I know being a farm boy and everything you'd probably want to kill it yourself and I don't know if Pittsburgh law allows that," I snark back with a grin and he laughs.

"You've got a mouth on you, Vanessa Canning," he says in mock sterness and it makes me giddy he remembers my last name. He was so drunk last night I'm surprised he remembers my first one.

"You haven't even begun to see what this mouth can do," I reply in a voice just above a whisper.

His smile grows from ear to adorable ear but he says nothing.

"You must have known the Morgans a long time for Clay to threaten me with the whole sister thing" he says after a minute.

"Since I was 12," I tell him. "Their dad and my dad worked at the same college."

"Boston College," Jordan says it, doesn't ask it. So I know he knows the story. "Brooksy – a team mate – he says their parents were killed in a car accident when Clay was young."

"Clay was like 16. Dean was 19 and Bella was 14," I say softly. I try not to feel guilty about talking about it. Bella would hate the look of sympathy on Jordan's face right now if he saw it. "They were hit by a drunk driver. They both died instantly. Bella was in the hospital for a two months."

"She was?"

"Yeah she was in the car," I admit but decide better of getting into the gory details of her injuries. "It was horrible."

"Man if that had happened in my family…" Jordan pauses. "My brothers and I would have probably ended up in jail not the NHL. Not without our parents to keep us in line… and keep us on track."

"Wait a minute, you have brothers? And they play hockey?"

He nods casually. "Yeah. Eric is on the Hurricanes. Marc is on the Rangers. Jared was drafted this past spring by Phoenix."

"Four?" I know my voice is this high-pitched squeak right now but I'm in disbelief. "Your parents had four boys and all of you are professional hockey players?"

He laughs. "Why is that such a big deal for everyone?"

"Umm because it's absurd. It's like genetically impossible."

"Clearly it's not impossible," he corrects me as we pull into the driveway of a very large, Tudor style two-storey that I vaguely remember from my drunken stupor last night.

"Well it's improbable," I reply and he just shrugs.

We get out of the car and he gently takes my hand as we walk up the driveway. The feel of his warm, massive hand around mine makes my heart flutter.

"What about you? Siblings?" he wants to know.

"A twin," I admit.

His blue eyes stare down at me with a mischevious twinkle. "Twin. That's hot."

I smirk back up at him. "I'll tell my brother you think so."

"Oh. Oh wait! I mean…" he starts to laugh and pale cheeks turn pink and he's so ridiculously beautiful right now.

Despite being in heels I still have to rock up on my tiptoes to catch his lips with mine. But it's worth it. He stops laughing and cradles the back of my head in his hand, tangling his fingers in my hair and parts my lips with his tongue.

We make-out like teenagers again – right there on his front porch – until I'm dizzy and breathless. Finally I pull back and shiver.

"Let's get inside and warm you up," he says and unlocks his front door.

There's a small tiffany lamp on the antique desk by the staircase. Down the hall at the back of the house I can see the flames from the gas fireplace in the family room glowing.

He takes my hand and leads me back there and I remember him doing the same last night. Only we weaved a hell of a lot more. I drop down on the same leather couch I plopped down on last night.

"Don't pass out on me again," he jokes and drops down beside me.

"Don't give me 7 shots of tequila then," I snark back with a sheepish grin.

His long, lean arm reaches across me for the phone.

"Hi there I'd like to place an order for delivery," he says after dialing a number, still leaning across me. "3 tuna makki rolls. Some salmon sashimi. 4 dynamite rolls…"

As he keeps rattling off sushi I can't help but lightly kiss his neck which is inches away from me. I feel him shiver under my lips and he stutters part of his order. I pull back the collar of his shirt and nip his collarbone.

"I'll… I'll call you back," he mumbles into the phone and drops it back onto the cradle.

He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me deeply, pushing me back onto the couch and lying over me. As his lips move to my neck I push my hips up against his and he grinds back and I can feel his rock hard dick against my abdomen.

I slip my hands under the bottom of his baby blue T shirt and make contact with his warm, soft skin. He kisses me again, his tongue tangling with mine and he moans softly into my mouth as I rake my fingernails down his back.

"What about the food?" he whispers.

"Let's work up an appetite," I reply and kiss him, tugging lightly on his bottom lip with my teeth.

He seems to have no problem with that suggestion as he slips his hands up under my shirt and in one fluid motion pulls it up over my head. His eyes land on my lacey red push up bra that has my C cups looking more like D cups.

"My favorite color," he smiles and dips his head down and starts kissing a trail from my neck to my cleavage. His long fingers graze the cup of my bra and start to tug on it, but before my breast pops out I shove him away and sit up.

He looks confused until I grab the hem of his T shirt and start lifting it over his head.

"And eye for an eye," I say with a grin. "Or in this case, a shirt for a shirt."

He laughs and helps me pull it off. Before he can push me back down I start undoing his belt and I lick at the sensitive skin just below his belly button as I push his jeans down his hips. My hands slide over his ass, now covered in only black, clingy Lululemon boxer briefs and I can't believe how hard it is. A solid mound of nothing but muscle.

I wish I hit the gym more. I'm not fat my any means. I'm 5'9 and 130 pounds. I wear a size 2. But still, I mean I'm not all tight and solid like he is.

"Your ass is probably hard than your cock," I blurt out.

He looks down at, all young and angelic. And perfect. He raises an eyebrow. "Oh I doubt that."

And then he's on top of me again and we're making out like crazy and I can feel his dick pushing into my thigh and I know I was completely wrong in that statement. His cock is equally as hard as his ass.

I'm almost panting as our hands roam over each other's body and somehow in all the kissing and groping he's managed to get my bra off and my perfectly fitted Rock N Republic skinny jeans are at my ankles and his fingers are inside my red lace panties and my hands are under his boxer briefs cupping that rock hard ass.

I moan and arch my back as two of his long fingers enter me and my whole body tingles. I shove his underwear back. And feel his dick spring free and hit my inner thigh.

He pulls his hand away from my center and pulls my jeans and underwear all the way off before positioning himself on top of me.

"Protection," I remind him softly and kiss his lips.

"Yeah," He grunts and opens up a draw in the coffee table and pulls out a Trojan. I try not to think about why he keeps condoms in his family room or how many other girls he's had on this couch.

He's a pro athelete. I get it. I just don't care.

He sits back on his knees and slides the condom on as sit up, lean forward and kiss that sensitive spot just below his earlobe. He grabs my waist and pulls me up and lowers me down on his dick.

I stretch around him and my body tingles and I shiver.

"You okay?" he whispers in my ear smoothing my hair and cupping the back of my neck gently.

"Mmm," is all I can manage to say and then I raise myself slightly and lower myself back onto him and it's his turn to lose his words.

With his arms wrap tenderly around my torso, and my arms around his neck, fingers lost in his hair I move up and down, riding him slowly.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that this isn't your typical hockey sex. Not that I have had sex with a hockey player before but I never thought it would be like this – slow, sensual, sexy, sweet. I thought it would be rough and wild and I think maybe later I should worry that it isn't cheap and dirty. But right now all I can think about is the feel of his skin and the taste of his lips and the feel of his dick inside me and the way it's hitting that spot that makes me see stars.

He bites down on my shoulder softly and he whispers something I can't understand and his arms tighten around me and I push down harder and rise up higher and push down harder and then I feel that warm, blinding quiver erupt and he lets out one loud, deep grunt. And holy hell I think I just had my first simultaneous orgasm with someone.

His body slumps and we fall backward onto the couch cushions. We both say nothing as the euphoria settles in and our breathing starts to return to normal.

I close my eyes and run my hand softly through his hair and he turns his head and buries it in the crook of my neck and something in me warns me again that this isn't how it should have gone down.

But it did.


	8. Chapter 8

"_It's only half past the point of oblivion  
The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run  
The breath before the kiss and the fear before the flames  
Have you ever felt this way?" _**Pink**

"So it's going well right?" I whisper to Sidney as he enters the kitchen carrying the empty plates I couldn't.

I place the armful I'm carrying carefully in the sink and he walks up beside me and does the same. He reaches across me and flips on the tap to give them a rinse and I breath in his scent. He smells a little like vanilla – but spicier. It almost makes me lightheaded it's so good.

I shift away from him to avoid the lightheadedness. He smiles at me.

"It's going great," he assures me. "Mario finds you charming' I can tell. And Nathalie seems impressed you're getting a degree in Sports Psychology."

I nod. I can't help but wish he had said I was charming not just that Mario thought I was. He continues to run the dishes one by one under the warm water.

"So how's this trade thing feeling on your end?" he wants to know.

"My dad's favorite team was the Habs so he would have been over the moon when they picked Clay up," I muse quietly. "But Montreal is rabid when it comes to their hockey and there's too much pressure on the players and I don't really like the management team. Gauthier is a bit of a prick."

He smiles at me. "My dad loved the Habs too. And so did I growing up. But I think I wouldn't want to play for them. You're right. The scrutiny on the players is insane in that town."

"It's the French blood," I tell him. "They're passionate. My mom was French Canadian."

"Really?" His caramel eyes fall on me with a twinkle. "That explains your feistiness then."

"Shut up!" I laugh and blush at the same time.

He laughs too and winks at me. And holy fuck I think I am having a moment with him. One of those cute little flirty moments. With Sidney freaking Crosby.

We fall silent for a second and I feel butterflies in my stomach and have to look away from his gaze.

"Mario and his wife are great. I like them," I say and nervously tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "It must be nice to live with them."

"They are great," he agrees, moving to the dishwasher and opening it. I slide up to the sink and begin to pass him the dishes. "Living with them is great. Nathalie cooks the best food every night and the kids are awesome. I love hanging out with them."

I hand him the dishes one by one and he starts stacking them in the machine.

"But I should get my own place I guess," he confesses in guilty voice. "I mean they're pretty good about giving me my privacy but it's not like they don't know when I come and go. And I feel bad if I'm out late and I don't tell them."

"Yeah I guess you can't exactly live that NHL rockstar lifestyle," I reply.

He stops loading the dishes and stares at me for a minute. I worry suddenly I've offended him but them he smiles.

"It's not that I want a revolving door on my bedroom like Max or anything," he tells me bluntly and I can't help but laugh. "But it would be nice to be able to invite a girl over to watch a movie or something, you know?"

I nod but remain silent. I want to ask him if he has a girl in mind or if I can be that girl but that's crazy. I'm crazy.

Nathalie wanders into the room and smiles brightly at both of us.

"Aren't you two adorable for cleaning up!" she beams. "But you don't have to do this. Leave the dishes and join everyone in the family room. We're having tea and dessert out there. Go on!"

She shoos us lovingly out of the kitchen and we wander into their family room with vaulted ceilings and warm chocolate brown suede couches and a chaise lounge. Austin and Alexa are sitting side by side on the end of one of the sofas and Austin reaches for the remote and flips on the TV above the fireplace.

"TSN?" I ask surprised as I sit down beside Alexa.

"We get all the sports channels – TSN, Sportsnet, RDS, ESPN, you name it, we got it!" he grins and turns back to the TV.

Mario and Clay are talking about real estate.

"So did you find a place?" he wants to know and Clay nods.

"Bella found a great furnished rental that was on that list Don gave me," Clay explains. "It's a three bedroom condo closer to downtown and the arena."

"You don't want to buy?" he asks.

"I will eventually," Clay says. "But I want to get a feel for the city and deal with selling my Montreal place before I decide on a something more permanent."

What he doesn't tell Mario is that he knows that the Pens only bought out the rest of his contract, which ends next year and he doesn't want to commit to something unless he's certain they'll resign him.

TSN is doing their Top 10 of the week and this week they've chosen fights. Clay and Mario continue discussing housing while I watch the clips. O'Brien fighting. Rutuu. Avery. They go down the list and then flash the Number one sign and a clip of Dean and Jared and Kesler all bunched up together on the Mellon Ice is filling the 42 inch plasma in the Lemieux home.

I don't know why I'm shocked. I shouldn't be shocked. The stupid sports stations all love brother rivalries in the NHL. They'll do a ten minute piece on the Staal brothers every game they play against each other. And once Tuomo Rutuu checked Jarko and it was replayed for weeks.

The room goes silent and everyone is transfixed on the TV as the announcer says. "Clay Morgan had his first game in a Penguins uniform and his first on-ice smackdown with his brother. It looks like it starts with Ryan Kesler but big brother Dean skated in to defend his teammate. No brotherly love lost here folks."

I swallow hard and glance up. Mario's eyes move from the TV to Clay.

I clear my throat. "Too bad there isn't a Sedin Twin rule to drafting."

"What? All siblings have to play for the same team?" Sidney asks and I nod emphatically.

Mario laughs at that. "I wouldn't mind a bench with four Staal brothers on it, that's for sure."

Nathalie enters the room again with a tray containing a teapot, mugs and several slices of a delicious looking apple cobbler. The conversation changes to something else and I heave a sigh of relief.

It's bad enough I made the mistake of getting involved with Ryan Kesler. I definitely did not need the Penguins GM knowing about it. Or Sidney.

I glance at him now and Sid smiles at me as he lifts a fork full of homemade apple crisp to his full lips.

Later that night the kids are busy playing video games, Nathalie is in the kitchen cleaning up and refusing help and Mario and Clay are locked in his office talking about god knows what.

I'm standing awkwardly against in the doorframe that divides the kitchen from the massive front hall as Sidney comes down the stairs and calls for Penny the family Labradoodle. She comes charging toward him from family room and nearly knocks him over.

I bit my cheek and try not to laugh at the worlds best hockey player being hip-checked successfully by this chocolate brown furball.

"Wanna join us for a walk?" he asks me and he looks almost shy about it.

Nathalie glances over from the sink where she's rinsing the dessert dishes. "You should go. It's a nice night. Full moon."

She grins at both of us like she's got some kind of secret – like she knows something we don't know. It's weird but I ignore it. Maybe it's just a mother's look. I don't know because it's been a very long time since I've had a mom.

"Sure. I could use some air," I agree and join him in the hall.

We throw on our jackets and he leashes up Penny and we head out and down the driveway. Neither of us says anything for almost half a block.

"So do you know what was up with that Kesler thing?" he asks, his breath making puffs of white air in front of him.

"Yeah," I reply truthfully and watch as he stares at me expectantly. "They have an off-ice issue with each other. It spilled over."

Sidney says nothing he just stops and waits for Penny to finish making yellow marks in the snow. His dark brow is furrowed slightly and I worry what he may be thinking of Clay.

"It's not at all like him," I find myself saying. "Clay has always been the calm, rational one. He never fights. Look at his youtube clips. You'll never see him fight."

"Relax," Sidney tells me with a soft smile. "I'm not judging him or anything. I get it. Sometimes lines get blurry. What did Kesler do to him anyway?"

We cross the street to the small, gated park that's completely empty and Sid lets Penny off the leash and we watch her gallop to the nearest tree and squat.

"It's his personal business…." I stammer.

"It involves a girl doesn't it?" Sidney asks.

I hesitate. But realize that if I agree I'm not lying. It does involve a girl. Sidney just doesn't need to know who that girl is. "Yeah. It was over a girl."

We start too wander over the icy path towards where Penny has decided to run in a circle and chase her tail.

"See?" he says with a smile and a shake of his head. "Girlfriends are bad for hockey players."

"I completely agree," I reply with an edge to my voice. "You should all be neutered and then no one would have to worry about their dicks screwing with their ice time."

He laughs out loud at that so hard he leans forward, but then he loses his foot on a icy patch and jerks backwards and I instantly reach out to steady him. As soon as I do it I realize it's ridiculous. He has 3 inches and at least 90 pounds on me. How I think I can stop him from falling is crazy.

The next thing I know we're both in a pile on the ground. He rolls over quickly, now he's almost on top of me.

"Oh my god! Sorry! Are you okay?" he asks in a rush and the puffy white cloud of his breath fogs my vision.

"Ugh. Yes," I moan, but I don't move. I just lie there and absorb the feeling of his body pressed to the side of mine.

He reaches out and with cold, strong fingers he brushes my hair off my face gently. I let my eyes flutter open.

"You sure you're okay?" he asks again.

"Yeah, are you?" I question back. "You're the one that matters."

He crinkles his nose at that but continues to stare directly in my eyes. It would be awkward if it weren't so damn hot.

"I've never seen eyes your color before," he says in a low deep voice that isn't anything I've heard in his million interviews.

"They're green," I croak, fully aware I sound like an idiot.

He smiles and his lips, his beautiful, thick lips part slightly and his tongue darts out and licks them.

"I know," he says with a chuckle. "But they've got flecks in them."

"Gray, Blue, and gold. My mom used to call them cats eyes," she explains.

He thinks about that for a long minute. "I don't like cats," he confesses. "But I like your eyes."

Our heads are inches apart. The cloud of white his breath is making tickles my cheek. I want to touch those amazing lips… with my lips…. And I think he might actually want the same…

And then there's nothing but the sound of four paws clopping on the icy pavement and Penny hurtles herself into us. Now all that matters is keeping an exuberant 75 pound dog from licking us to death.

I can do nothing but howl with laughter.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** I know that in RL Colby Armstrong had already been traded to Atlanta at this point in the 2008-2009 season. But I'm taking liberties for dramatic purposes. Thanks for understanding! And also thank you for the reviews. Totally inspires me to keep writing.

"_Maybe I'm a dreamer  
Maybe I'm misunderstood  
Maybe you're not seeing the side of me you should" __**Sick Puppies**_

It's very strange to watch Bella unpack while Clay packs. It's making my head hurt. Or maybe that was the bottle of Tequila Jordan and I finished last night.

"Where is my blue shirt?"

"You have 14 blue shirts, could you vague it up for me a little bit?"

"The one with the stripes. The one I like for road trips."

"It's at the cleaners. It won't be ready till tomorrow."

"But I leave for New York tonight."

"Well I can courier it to you in the morning or you could suck it up, stop being a princess and pack a different one."

"I have no idea why Sidney thought you two were boyfriend and girlfriend," I can't help but joke snidely. "You act way more like an old married couple."

"Oh the post-sex-euphoria must be wearing off," Bella smiles at me snarkily, here green eyes dancing. "You're back to your sarcastic self."

I throw a pretty sage colored throw pillow at her from my position on the couch. I have to admit, Bella picked a sweet rental for her brother. This condo is on the 25th floor and has floor to ceiling windows, a huge master bedroom, and two ample guest rooms. The kitchen was open concept with sleek mahogany cabinets and shiny dark granite.

"The rest of your personal stuff is coming in from Montreal tomorrow so everything should be settled here by the time you get back from Buffalo," Bella tells her brother as she finishes emptying the last of his suitcases and carrying a neatly folded stack of clothes through the open pocket doors to his bedroom just off the living room.

He smiles thankfully at her and immediately starts ripping the pile apart, grabbing a University of Maine T shirt and a pair of dark jeans to pack into his travel bag.

"Who packed up your stuff in Quebec?" I ask and yawn and stretch. My thighs and hips ache and it makes me smile. Sex with Jordan is well worth the residual aches.

"Emilie." He replies flatly.

"How is she doing with the trade?" I ask and Bella rolls her eyes like I've just asked the stupidest question in history.

Clay shrugs. "She wants to come visit. She thinks we can make it work."

"She's delusional," Bella sighs.

"Yeah," Clay agrees. "But I needed someone to pack up the rest of my clothes and pictures so I won't give her a reality check until next week."

"I liked Emilie," I say softly. Granted I had only met her once but she seemed sweet and she was definitely completely enamored with Clay.

"She was a nice girl," Clay nods. "But I always told her my life was too crazy to commit. We had a very casual thing going on. She thinks me moving away will somehow make it a serious thing. That makes no sense."

"How come Dean never has these problems?," Bella says as she flops down beside me on the couch, her legs dropping down on top of mine. "No girl is ever sorry to see him go."

"Because they usually catch him with another girl… or two" Clay replies tartly and shakes his head.

"There are lots of married hockey players," I find myself saying. "So it's not like it's impossible to commit and play in the NHL."

"You sound hopeful," Bella replies caution thick in her voice. "Why do you sound hopeful?"

"What? No! I'm just saying," I shift uncomfortably and tug and the sleeves of the UCLA hoodie I'm wearing. "I'm being devil's advocate."

Clay has stopped packing and is looking at me with a cocked eyebrow from behind his suitcase. I start to blush.

"Jordan Staal is a nice guy but he's also still a young, talented, cocky, hockey player," Clay tells me.

"Did I bring Jordan into this? Why are you bringing Jordan into this?" I argue in a voice that is too high pitched and panicked sounding to be taken as indignant. "This is about you and Emilie and just a general observation of the hockey lifestyle in general."

"Sure it is," Bella smiles and pats my hand in mock comfort. "Jordan must be a great lay to get your oxytocin levels raging like this."

"Okay first of all stop with the psych speak," I demand and pull my hair out of its tiny ponytail. "And second of all…. Yeah he is fantastic in bed but I do not want to marry him or anything. For godssake it was just sex. Great sex. But just sex."

Clay gets this look on his face like he just ate a lemon and shakes his head, his brown hair flopping onto his forehead. "I so do not need to know how my teammate is in bed. This is why I don't want either one of you sleeping with my teammates. Fuck. Gross."

"You'll never have to worry about that with me," Bella swears raising her hands in defense. Then she turns back to me with serious eyes. "To answer your question, yes hockey players can marry. They do marry. And then they cheat. You saw that first hand, remember?"

My mind flashes to Dean pounding on Bella's bedroom door back in LA and yelling. "Bella! He's married! What the fuck are you doing?"

And then Bella's shocked, devastated face as Ryan, shirtless, begs her to "understand".

Yeah. Bella was right. And deep down I know that. I guess I just wish I didn't.

Clay and his sister are still looking at me in concern. I laugh and shake my head.

"Relax guys," I say with a smile. "I've got Jordan out of my system. It was just a nice little perk to a trip to Pittsburgh. I fully expect him to find a perk – or two - to this New York road trip. And good on him. He has skills worth sharing."

Bella giggles at that as Clay groans and covers his ears in case I elaborate.

It's fine. Really it is, I think as Bella gets up and heads to the kitchen mumbling about wanting a snack. I did enjoy the sex with Jordan…. And the way he made me laugh. And his adorable shy side. And his pretty eyes. And the way he always seems to be touching me or holding my hand. But I was just another notch. I knew that going in and I was okay with it.

I AM okay with it. I am.

I really am.

_"So why does it feel so wrong_  
_To reach for something more_  
_To wanna live a better life_  
_What am I waiting for?" _**Sick Puppies**

I finish chewing on a bread stick and stifle a yawn. Max looks over at me from across the long table and smirks.

"Fatigue Staalsy?" he asks. "Do we have a blonde, brunette or red head to thank?"

Brooks, Sid, Flower and Colby all laugh at that. I give him an amused stare and reach for another bread stick.

"I tell you," Max starts, his blue eyes darkening deviously. "That brunette from the Moose. She was wild. She tied me to the bed and gave me the best head of my life. If I ever decided to call a girl twice, she'd be on top of the list."

"You let her tie you to the bed?" Colby looks horrified. "Did you not see that Seinfeld episode? Dude you could have been robbed blind!"

"For that orgasm it would have been worth it," Max tells him and my mind wanders to last night with Nessa.

After the sushi finally arrived we did decide to play pool. We made it to my games room and I managed to sink one ball before she distracted me by putting her hands in my pants and then her pretty lips on my cock and the next thing I know I had her naked on the edge of the table, with her legs around my waist and my dick was the only thing I was sinking.

"Un Sourire?" Max says and points at me as he repeats it in English. "Smile? Why the smile Jordy? We share the good lays remember?"

I glance at Clay who is looking at me with far less amusement in his eyes than the rest of my teammates.

"He means we share stories," I clarify to Clay. "Not girls. We don't share girls. Well, I mean unless they want to. But I don't… I wouldn't, like, pawn her off or anything."

Everyone is riveted by the conversation now. Flower is the first to catch on – or at least he thinks he is.

"Holy crap! Did you sleep with Morgan's sister?" he blurts out.

"NO!" Clay and I both reply loudly but what's interesting is Sid also utters an emphatic no.

I glance at him perplexed and so does Clay.

"She was at dinner at Mario's. With Clay and me," Sidney mumbles. "Unless he slept with her a different night."

"I didn't sleep with his sister!" I exclaim. "Not on any night."

The waitress is suddenly there dropping our rich, delicious looking Italian meals in front of us. I glance up at her and she's clearly trying very hard not to laugh because she totally caught our conversation. I'll be surprised if this doesn't end up on one of those lameass hockey gossip boards.

Max winks at her. "Merci belle."

"So then it was the friend?" Flower just is not going to let this go. "The tall, dark brunette. She was hot."

"She still is hot," I mumble.

"I know I'm new and everything and I don't want to screw with tradition, but can we not talk about Jordan banging a girl I've known since she was 12 and treat like a sister?" Clay asks meekly with a small hopeful smile.

"I think you deserve at least that," Colby replies. "Besides the conquest stories are getting old."

"No, you got old Mr. Married man," Max corrects as he swallows a piping hot bite of his chicken parmesan.

"I didn't get old, I got mature," Colby replies. "And I'm not married. I'm engaged."

"Yeah well I'd rather be laid than mature," I can't help but blurt out. It was too easy a jab not to take it. Everyone – including Clay – laughs.

"So if you've known her since you were a teenager, you must have tapped that too," Max ponders aloud, glancing over at Clay who nearly chokes on his linguine.

He shakes his head vigorously and takes a sip of his beer.

"She's seriously like a sister. I'm not kidding about that," Clay replies. "And Bella would have murdered me. Vanessa is her best friend and she doesn't let her good friends near hockey players. She knows better."

"Oh…" Flower says in a singsong voice. "Is she going to be pissed about Jordan?"

"She knows," Clay replies and sips his Miller Light. "I have no idea why Bells let Ness break the rule on this one. Guess Jordan was too adorable to cock block."

Everyone bursts out laughing at that and I smile proudly. I'm glad Bella liked me enough to let me hang out with Vanessa. It was a good time. It was so good it's the first time in a long time I've been thinking about a girl after she puts her clothes back on.

After dinner we all wander out into the New York night and start walking the few blocks to the Four Seasons where we're staying. I can't help but pull my cell out and check for the hundredth time if I might have missed a text or call.

"Expecting a call?" Sidney asks quietly so Max or the others don't jump into the conversation.

"No. Not really," I shrug and shove my phone back in the pocket of my navy peacoat. "I did give her my number. But clearly she's not a clinger…. Which is good."

"Yeah. It's definitely good," Sidney nods. "Unless you, like, wanted her to call."

"It was a good night last night," I muse thoughtfully, smiling. "She's great. But it was supposed to be a one-time thing."

"Supposed to be?" Sidney questions my wording with a concerned lilt in his voice.

"I mean, I don't know…" I feel suddenly guilty or wrong for even expressing these thoughts that won't leave my head. I don't know why but I do. "If she likes visits here or something… I mean if she's hanging around and I'm free I guess I wouldn't mind a few more rounds…"

Sidney clearly does not like the sound of this. Which is ironic because I know as much as he likes to call Kathy his girlfriend, she pretty much is exactly what I'm describing. A chick he bangs when schedules align.

"She lives in Los Angeles, J," he reminds me like I have no idea the geographical issues with that. "And I mean sure she's here visiting because Bella is here. But Bella won't come back all that often. She's in school and has a life outside her brother I'm sure. You'll probably never see Ness again unless you… make this into a big complicated deal."

I swallow and frown. "The last thing I want is a big complicated deal. Trust me."

"I know," Sidney assures me. "I know your rules on keeping things as uncomplicated as possible. So I guess that's why I'm reminding you."

"Yeah," Jordan nods. "Well, like I said. It was a good time. It'll be hard to top. But I am definitely going to actively try."

I smirk at him and he laughs and gives me a playful shove, the tension gone from his face. Good old fun-times Jordy is back. That's how everyone likes me – no strings attached, shits-and-giggles, lose-and-easy Gronk.

I watch Colby as he walks slightly ahead of us, smiling, laughing into the phone at his ear. I'm sure he's talking to his fiancé. I know guys get married and their road habits don't change, but Colby's have changed. And it doesn't at all seem like it was a hard decision. He doesn't seem like he's missing out on anything. And he's happier than he was before he met Melissa.

I guess he's just the exception to the rule.

"We're going out tomorrow after the game right?" I ask everyone. "Marc told me about this awesome place in SoHo with premium tail."


	10. Chapter 10

_We're gonna come together, we're gonna celebrate  
We're gonna gather around like it's your birthday  
I don't wanna know just what I'm gonna do  
I don't care where you're going  
I'm coming home with you."_ **Kings of Leon**

We'd won. I was over the fucking moon. My first hat-trick at Mellon. There is nothing like hearing the buzzer sound and watching everyone in the stands jump up and knowing that shower of head gear that hits the ice and delays the game is for you.

I'd watched it go on for other people and it annoyed the crap out of me. This side of it was a very different feeling. This side, I loved.

I fiddle with the puck, the trainer wrapped it in tape and carefully printed the date, the team, and "1st Home Hat-trick".

"Listen up," Therrien barks without so much as a smile. "We did good tonight. Sidney is living up to his hype for now. The rest of you, room for improvement. I know the next game isn't till Wednesday but I want full practice tomorrow 1pm. No going out tonight. Understand?"

The room is begrudgingly silent.

He turns and leaves.

"Fuck that," Max grumbles.

It pisses me off too. It's not that I wanted to go out necessarily… I mean I had no plans. It's just that I don't want him making the decision for me.

"Living hype?" Geno questions in his broken English.

"It means he thinks Sidney is playing as good as people say he is," Jordan explains and shakes his head. "It means Therrien is a douchebag."

I shush him like a Captain should quiet a insubordinate but I can't hide a small smile.

After we finish with warm-down and showering everyone kinda takes their time getting dressed. No one wants to go home so soon.

"Anyone want to swing by my new place. Just to, you know, check it out," Clay asks quietly. "Maybe give me some decorating tips."

I stare at him and his mouth tugs up in a deceptive smile.

"Decorating tips?" Max replies and a smile is brewing on his face too.

"Yeah like is my liquor cabinet in the right place? Is it too full?" Clay starts questioning. "Also, I think I might have too much beer in the fridge and it's throwing off the feng shui."

"Well we wouldn't be good team mates if we let your feng shui stay all fucked up now would we?" Jordan says jovially as he runs a towel over his wet blonde mop.

I chuckle. "So Morgan's it is. You know just till that feng shui thing is fixed."

The whole way over to Morgan's – which is a short 10-minute commute – I'm giddy and upbeat. Jordan is driving and I'm humming along to Rihanna on the radio.

"You should get hat tricks every game. You're a happy camper for once," Jordan says observing my mood.

"It's sweet and long overdue," I reply and tap my fingers on the dash.

"I did okay too," Flower pipes up from the back seat. "I owned that starter position. I proved it."

"You never had to prove it Flower," I tell him honestly. "We know you're golden."

"Therrien doesn't."

Poor Flower. He was our first round pick - a golden goalie - but Therrien never gives him credit. Coach loves Sabourin and only Sabourin. His biased is so absurd it's offensive. I even get offended for Flower.

"Let's forget about him and just get our drink on tonight okay?" I reply and I mean it. I want to celebrate.

"Is his sister still in town?" Flower asks.

"We're about to find out," I say and try not to sound as excited as I am at the thought of spending the night with Bella Morgan nearby. I haven't seen her since before our road trip - since that dinner at Mario's. I haven't had a reason to, but that doesn't mean I haven't wanted to see her.

Clay meets us in the lobby with Max and Colby. The building is fairly new and very modern. Clay's new place is on the 25th floor and it's a lot of glass and granite and stainless steel but the furnishings are warm in earth tones with overstuffed pillows.

I try to hide my disappointment when I realize Bella isn't there. We're all hanging out in the massive kitchen-dining room as Clay pulls beers out of the fridge and hands them out. Jordan wanders over to Clay's ipod dock and shuffles through stuff until he finds some Linkin Park.

"Your sister go home?" I ask in a voice I can only hope is casual sounding.

"Nah, I think she and Ness went to a bar or something," Clay explains opening his cupboard and pulling out some bags of chips and pretzels.

Max's phone goes off from the back pocket of his jeans. His ring tone is Low by FloRider – which is so typically Max.

He glances at the call display and grins like a six year old on Christmas Day. "It's Meagan. I met her at a restaurant last week. Elle a un joli sourire et un plus joli cul."

"Should a girl's ass really be prettier than her face? Is that a good thing?" I question and laugh.

Max ignores me.

"Well let's judge for ourselves," Clay says suddenly. "Invite her over. Tell her to bring friends."

Max lets out a belly laugh, answers the call and does just that.

Three beers later Clay is buzzing up the girl with the pretty smile and prettier ass, as Max put it, whose name turns out to be Megan, and 3 of her friends. None of them are ugly, that's for sure. There's Anna, a short blonde with big brown eyes and Carly, a taller blonde with longer hair and Darci, a tiny little brunette with fake boobs so big I'm shocked she doesn't tip over.

Jordan nudges me in the living room as they're all in the kitchen watching Clay do his best imitation of a fancy bartender. "Which one you want?"

"I don't know.." I stammer and add. "That Anna one is okay."

"I'm going for Darci," Jordan says quietly. "I've never had a pair of fake tits before."

"By all means, scratch that off your bucket list," I snark and laugh. Jordy is a player but unlike Max he somehow seems adorable when he does it. Which usually gets him way classier tail than Max snags.

An hour and 2 more beers later and I let Anna convince me to do a shot of Jack. I'm drunk. Drunker than I've been in a long time. Anna is perched on the arm of the couch beside me, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. She's telling me how awesome it is that I score a lot. I'm apparently amazing to watch. Her praise is ridiculous and, quite frankly, boring. I hate when people blow smoke up my ass. Hate it. I find myself contemplating kissing her just to shut her up. But girls like this are the exact reason I don't mess around. Anna is star struck. She wants to nail the Reebok commercial, not me. If I slept with her, she'd probably tweet "I'm banging Sidney Crosby right now!" in the middle of it.

Jordan is sitting next to me with Darci beside him, her feet dangling over his legs. He has one of his giant paws resting on her bare thigh at the edge of her tiny denim skirt and I bet that in the next 15 minutes it'll disappear under the hem.

I glance over and can see the faint outline of Max and Megan are on the balcony just off the kitchen. They're attached at the lips - and god knows where else - and probably dying of hypothermia. Carly is in the kitchen doing shots with Clay and Flower. Colby left a few minutes ago eager to get home to Melissa.

The front door opens and there's the distinctive click of high heels on the marble floor and I hear this sweet sounding high-pitched giggle.

"Can you believe him?" I hear Bella's voice over the music from the stereo.

"At least your guy was trying to be sweet," Vanessa's word travel into the room. "Mine was lucky he had his looks."

They stumble into the living room and both stop dead at the sight of all of us.

Bella's mouth opens but she says nothing as her beautiful green eyes grow wide and sweep over the group. Vanessa's smile slips for a second as her eyes land on Staalsy.

"Hey Bells!" Clay calls from the kitchen. "We won!"

"Yeah. I watched it," Bella says calmly. "Nice pair of assists."

She wanders by the couch toward the kitchen and her brother. I watch her go, taking in the way her body curves in the clingy, short black dress she's wearing and the sexy shape of her bare legs propped up in those sexy black heels with the red soles. It's just as good as the yoga pants, possibly better because I can see more skin.

Darci and Anna watch Bella and Vanessa with wary eyes. I could explain to them that it's Clay's sister and friend not girlfriends about to wage war but… I don't really care. And did I mention I am drunk?

Bella grabs a bottle of beer out of the fridge and surveys the room again. "By the way everyone I'm Bella. Clay's sister. And this is my best friend Nessa."

The girls mutter half-hearted hellos. This doesn't seem to phase Bella. I have a feeling she's used to puck bunnies and their insecurities. Vanessa seems a little bit ruffled and she keeps glancing at Darci suspiciously.

"I need to change," Bella announces. "The dress has served its purpose for the night."

She wanders back through the living room and Vanessa follows her.

"Yeah," Nessa agrees. "We're done picking up. Time for comfy clothes."

They disappear down the hall and behind doors on the opposite sides of the hall.

The music changes, Ray J's Sexy Can I fills the room and Darci squeals and jumps up, grabbing Anna and pulling her off the couch.

"I wanna dance!" She wails excitedly. "I love this song!"

Anna tries to pull me off the couch as Jordan gets up, grinds Darci for a second and then mumbles something about having to piss. I convince Anna I need another beer and wander over to the kitchen. I'm drunk, but not drunk enough to dance.

A second later Bella comes back out in a pair of beautifully tight and blessedly short yoga shorts and a fitted, very low cut, V-neck Canucks T shirt. I laugh at it. I know her brother plays for them but for some reason it's hysterical to me that she's wearing it in Pittsburgh in a room full of Penguins.

"Umm… wrong hockey team!" Anna snipes, offended. She glances at me like she wants some kind of praise for calling Bella out. I star down into my fresh beer and continue to giggle.

Bella completely ignores Anna and grabs my beer out of my hand and hops up on the countertop in front of me, and takes a long slow sip.

"Nice hat trick," she says with a smile. "Congrats."

"Thanks," I smile back. "Felt good."

"Did it?" she questions and I nod stiffly. "Because I'm betting your first thought was I wish it was Brodeur."

She sips my beer again as I stare blinking and stunned.

"I'm right," she says cockily.

"Yeah. You are," I admit in a low voice, not that the guys are anywhere around me. They're all in the living room now except for Max who's still out on the balcony probably frozen to death. "Brodeur is the best. A legend."

"You gotta celebrate the victories in whatever way or order they're given to you because they're still victories," she tells me and hands me back my beer. "So Brodeur wasn't your first. But you'll get him. He's got too much of an ego to retire when he should. You'll have lots of chances to hat-trick his ass."

"Wow. UCLA would be proud," I joke.

"It doesn't take my sports psychology degree to figure out you're an over-achiever," She replies with a wink.

She hops off the counter and walks over to the balcony sliding the door open. "Max! You're going to get frostbite on your dick for godssake! Go use my bedroom!"

She leaves the door open and turns to me laughing. "I can't believe I just did that but it's so cold out there. Even puck bunnies deserved to have a nice warm one night stand."

I burst out laughing at that.

"You're amazing," I tell her through giggles. And I honestly mean it. She's like no girl I have ever met.

"_Hot as a fever, rattling bones  
I could just taste it, taste it  
If it's not forever, if it's just tonight  
Oh, it's still the greatest, the greatest, the greatest." _**Kings of Leon**

After I take a piss I step out into the hall and glance at the two bedroom doors. Instead of heading back to the party - and the beer that's got me buzzing, and the fake tits I'm yet to get a feel of – I wander towards the guest bedroom Vanessa and her pretty pink mini dress disappeared into.

I'm too drunk to care about etiquette so I don't knock. I just push open the door and slip inside, making sure to close it behind me. I haven't seen her or talked to her since that night at my house. Because that's the way it should be. She was a one night stand. But I thought about her the whole road trip. And I didn't get laid in New York which is like a travesty or something. I kissed a chick in the bar I went to with my brother Marc, Flower and Max but instead of closing the deal I went home and jerked off. To Ness.

She looks up wide-eyed and for a minute I think she might smile, but instead she blinks a few times and suppresses any sign of emotion.

"Hey Staal," she chirps in a calm, even tone.

I don't like her calling me by my last name. It's weird. And distant. And I don't want her to be distant. I want her to be close. Like sitting-on-my-dick close.

She's in nothing but a silver satin bra and a pair of sweats with UCLA bear paws on the ass.

"Did you get lost looking for the bathroom?"

I shake my head and run my tongue across my lips. She stares at me blankly. Then she grabs a black tank off the floor and throws it on. Then suddenly – finally – she has some emotion in her face.

"Ummm… look," she swallows hard and her dark eyes are serious. "I get that you've got a chick out there and you want to …."

"What chick?" I interrupt and take a step toward her.

"The one with the tits," she reminds me frankly and clears her throat.

"Max invited them," I explain and reach out and pull the elastic from her hair. It tumbles in soft waves skimming her shoulders and brushing her cheeks.

"Whatever," she shakes her head and tips it upward to meet my stare. I'm so close to her now our chests are almost touching.

"I don't mean to interrupt your game," she tells me in a business like voice. "So by all means go ahead and get the job done. But if you're looking for a bed to finish the deal it's not going to be mine. Either set up shop in Bella's room or cab her back to your place."

She takes a step back and then pirouettes around me. I really wish I hadn't had that last beer. My reflexes are shit. She's at the door with her hand on the handle before I can reach her.

She pulls it open but I put my hand on it and push. The handle slips from her hand and the door shuts again.

She turns, pressing her back up against the door to distance herself from me as much as possible. She looks up, crossing her arms across her perky, perfect tits.

"What?"

My hand slides down the door above her head and lands on her shoulder. Her skin is so warm and so soft.

"You know what."

"No," she argues but her brown eyes have softened and there's a smile turning the corners of her mouth up ever so slightly as her tongue darts out to lick her lips. "Tell me what."

"I'm not done with you," I whisper lowering my head and capturing her lips.

She doesn't even pretend to hesitate. Her hands move directly under my shirt and she lifts it over my head. I cup her head with one hand and her ass with the other and push into her showing her exactly how much I have left to give her.

"What about Tits McGee?" she snarks into my ear as she nips my earlobe.

I smile down at her, lift her by her tiny little ass and, as she wraps her legs around my waist, I carry her over to the bed.

"She can have Flower as a consolation prize," I suggest, dropping her onto the bed and pulling her tank top over her head.

And then there's no more speaking. Just muffled moans and stifled grunts and tiny groans as we rediscover each other's bodies with our tongues and our hands while trying not to alert the party outside the door. Then finally she's naked and I'm naked and after I quickly grab the condom from my wallet my dick is pushing into her warm, wet core and she's biting my bottom lip and I can't believe how fucking fantastic it feels. Better than any sex I've ever had. I have no idea why it's just better.

She wraps her long legs around my back and her long arms around my neck and if this was any other fuck I would pull back, flip her over, create a little distance and pump into her fast and furious. But I don't want to tonight. I want every inch of me to touch her. And so I keep my body pressed against hers and grind slowly, steadily in and out of her hot, tight body and she sighs and quivers as I roll my pelvis to brush her clit. She's kissing me everywhere – my neck my lips, my jaw, my ear and it feels so fucking good. So right.

"You're fucking amazing you know that?" she whispers, her lips grazing my cheek. I feel her body tighten around my cock and she starts to pant.

"You make me that way," I grunt back and moan as I shake and I hurtle toward release at the same time she is.

How the fuck that keeps happening is beyond me.

But right now everything is beyond me. I don't understand anything I am feeling or thinking but luckily I'm still too buzzed to care.

I lie on top of her, my face buried in the crook of her neck, my breath coming in gulps. She runs her hands through my damp hair and whispers something about people wondering where we are.

"I'm sure Tits Mcgee wants to know where you went." She giggles softly.

"Fuck her," I mumble back. "All I want is you."


	11. Chapter 11

"_I am tryin' not to tell you, but I want to  
I'm scared of what you'll say  
So I'm hidin' what I'm feelin'  
But I'm tired of holdin' this inside my head."_ **Colbie Caillat**

"Where's Jordan?" I call out probably a little louder than I should.

Bella laughs from her position at the other end of the couch. "I haven't seen him in an hour."

"Guess he left," Anna says from her position at the breakfast bar where she is glaring at me.

She looked pissed. Maybe my ego was growing out of control the drunker I got but I could only imagine it was because I had just spent the last hour talking to Bella and only Bella. I couldn't help it. She was incredibly entertaining. She was talking about sports and psychology and giving these really cool examples of why certain players act the way the act and perform – or don't perform – on the ice.

And then she started talking about New England and I started telling her about growing up in the Maritimes because it was so similar to her stories about beach parties and clam bakes and 10 foot high winter snow banks.

"He was my lift!" I suddenly realize and my inebriation has me saying it out loud.

"Well I can drive you home," Anna volunteers suddenly turning the glare off and smiling brightly. "I don't mind at all. I mean we can't have hockey's best player taking a plain old cab or anything."

I look around the room realizing for the first time that while Bella and I have been talking everyone else – not just Jordan – seems to have disappeared. Max and Meagan are gone. Clay and the taller of the blondes, I think her name was Casey or something, are nowhere to be found.

"Where is Ness?" I ask Bella and she shrugs her tiny shoulders.

"She was drunk. Probably passed out in her room." Bella replies. "We had the worst double date ever tonight. The guys were total airheads."

"Was it that blonde thing from the bar the other night?" I can't help but ask.

She nods. "Yeah. What a disappointment he turned out to be. No personality at all. Ness and I pretended we had to go to the bathroom and stopped by the bar to do shooters. It was the only way to make it through his boring conversation about how many twitter followers he has."

Anna is now standing before us and I don't remember seeing her move from the breakfast bar. But yet there she is, standing in front of me staring down at me expectantly. She has an annoyed look on her face again. Her friend Darci is standing beside her but I can't tell if she's annoyed. I can't see her face. Her tits are blocking it.

"So do you want a lift or what?" Anna asks.

"You know, you can totally just stay here," Bella offers with a smile and for a second my heart jumps until she follows it up with. "This couch is a pullout. It's even got a pillow top mattress."

Anna shoots Bella a withering look. "Why would he want to stay here, alone, when he could sleep in his own bed…"

She lets her voice trail off and we all know the part of the sentence she doesn't say is "With her."

"Well, my car is still at the rink," I explain quietly. "And it'll be easier to get it and get to practice from here in the morning."

What I can't say is that although sleeping in my own bed would be lovely I would be sleeping alone there too since I can't exactly parade Anna into the Lemieux house even if I wanted to, which I don't.

"Well, you have my number," Anna says giving up but clearly not happy about it. She leans down and kisses me on the cheek and I fight the urge to move away. "Call me."

I nod and watch as Bella follows Anna and Double D Darci to the front door and locks it behind them. She makes a pit stop at the linen closet in the hall beside the spare bedrooms and comes back with blankets and pillows as I start to take the cushions off the couch.

She leans in to help me pull the mattress part from inside the couch and our shoulders bump. She gives me a playful shove and because of the alcohol I tip over and land on the pile of discarded cushions.

"Wow, you're pretty unstable on your feet for a superstar," she jokes.

"Not fair," I complain and try to gracefully clamour my way off the cushions. "I'm drunk."

"But yet still not completely out of control," she says a little judgementally.

"What are you talking about?" I wonder and clamor haphazardly to my feet again.

"You just blew off a free and easy good time," Bella informs me. "If you weren't still thinking too hard you'd have grabbed that action just like Max and Clay have."

"So you're saying I should have gone home with her?" I question feeling a little confused and maybe even embarrassed. If she didn't want me to stay why did she offer? Maybe she wasn't having as good a time talking to me as I was to her.

"Honestly?" she says softly and plops down on the edge of the bed she just finished making for me. "I didn't want you to."

I smile at that and she blushes and stares at her hands playing with the edge of the duvet.

"But," she starts again. "The fact that you didn't just indulge yourself and go home with her means you're still wound too tight. You gotta loosen up."

"Stop psych-analyzing me," I demand with an slight chuckle. "Little Miss Sports Psychology."

I sit down beside her and fall backward so I'm flat out on my back across the bed. I move my arms behind my head and sigh.

"I told you how I feel about girlfriends," I remind her. "It's not a coincidence that most of our best players – Staalsy, Talby, and now your brother – are unattached."

"I wasn't telling you to date the blonde," she reminds me and giggles.

"So the fact that I'm not a manwhore makes me uptight?" I think I am too drunk to follow her logic.

"In a way, yes," she admits. "I mean not that I want everyone to be manwhores. But I don't have anything against a random make-out session. It's fun and spontaneous. And you don't seem to have much of that in your life."

"I can be fun and spontaneous," I argue confidently. "I'm just selective. If I'm going to do it I wanna make sure it's worth it."

"She's pretty and skinny and blonde and she sat here all night fawning all over you," Bella informs me. "What more could you possibly want?"

She turns her upper body and stares down at me, her hair falling over her shoulder in a silky auburn wave. Her green eyes are wide and curious.

I prop myself up on an elbow and look at her. Really look at her. My tongue slides out and wets my lips nervously.

"Someone who's funny and intelligent and calls me on my shit." I tell her quietly. "Someone with the most fantastic green eyes I have ever seen in my life. That's what more I could want."

She looks a little like a deer in headlights for a second and then her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. I reach out and cup the back of her head pulling her to me until our lips touch.

"_So let's just try to cool it down  
The fighting, this feeling of flames  
And let's just try to slow it down  
We crash when we race."_ **Colbie Caillat**

I've been staring at those lips all night. Watching his pink tongue moisten them, watching the way they separate and turn upward when he's laughing. The pale rosy shade of them. And now that they're finally touching mine I realize I haven't just been fascinated with them, I've been craving them.

My mind goes completely blank and my eyes fall shut and all I can think of is how soft they are and how incredibly euphoric this is making me feel. I kiss him back instinctively, my hand reaches over and grazes his cheek before tangling itself in his hair. I have also been suppressing the overwhelming need to touch that dark, mass. It's softer and thicker than I realized.

I let his lips part mine and let him pull me down on top of him. As I willing meet his tongue with mine.

I've never felt such a strong electrical current of desire run down my spine and pool in my abdomen. Never. I'm overwhelmed and all I can do is kiss him harder and deeper.

His hands are gliding down my back and cupping my ass and my legs fall over each of his hips so I'm straddling him and I have both hands in his hair my fingernails grazing his scalp causing him to tighten his grip on my ass.

This make-out session goes on forever but yet when we finally pull apart with swollen lips and panting for breath, it feels too soon.

"Spontaneous enough for you?" he whispers against my ear and I giggle into his shoulder.

"Spontaneous and stupid," I reply with a smile. "My brother could walk out here any second and see us."

"Will he kill me?" Sidney wants to know.

"He'll kill me first so you'll have time to run," I explain thinking of the lecture he would give me and the look of anger and disappointment on his face.

I slowly pull away from Sid so I'm now sitting on top of him looking down from a safe distance. His hands slide around to hold my hips and I am completely aware that he's probably picture me in this position minus the clothes. Because that's exactly what I'm picturing and it's making me wet.

"We should stop," I say but it's the farthest thing from what I actually want to do.

"Now look whose the uptight one?" he gives me the most adorable smirk.

I lean forward and press my lips to his again and this time there's no first kiss hesitation or patience. My tongue finds his immediately and I feel his hips below me push upward intuitively and I'm rolling mine teasingly.

I'm drunk. We're drunk. This is really really really stupid. I know this. I have no doubt about this. But yet, I can't stop. I won't stop.

He pulls me down on top of him again and his hands slide across my back under my tank top as mine slide up under his Penguins hoodie and the feeling of his smooth muscled chest is intoxicating me in a very different, much better way than the alcohol.

Our lips detach only long enough for him to pull my top over my head and I'm suddenly grateful I wore my only black lace bra instead of my usual juvenile Target polkadot cotton ones. He tries to capture my lips again but I pull back and pull his shirt from his body. My god, he's got the most perfect body I have ever seen. Ever.

He's half sitting up now and he wraps his arms around my back and kisses my neck softly sending chills down my spine.

"we can't do this…" I start and shudder. "Not out here."

I get off of him and take his hand and pull him toward my bedroom. As I turn to open my bedroom door, he's got his hands wrapped around my waist, his fingers dipping under the waist of my shorts and his lips land on my shoulder and he nips it lightly as I open the door.

We're greeted by the sight of Max Talbot lying face down on top of that Meagan girl, his naked ass on display for the world to see.

I stifle a squeal of shock and horror as Sid reaches around me and pulls the door firmly closed again before we wake them up.

I spin around to face him and see him equally stunned. And then we burst out laughing.

"I forgot you told him he could use your room," he says as we giggle and stumble our way back into the living room.

"I did?" something is starting to float through the alcohol and to the surface of my brain. "Right… well I didn't mean he could sleep there just….. sleep there."

Sidney's laugh is high and light and it makes me giggle even harder. We both collapse onto the sofa bed still in a giggle fit. When we finally calm down we're lying face-to-face, side-by-side inches apart.

"I want to kiss you again," he whispers.

"I want you to kiss me again," I confirm in a whisper.

He inches closer and his lips fall on mine and the kiss is instantly intense. Before I can blink he's on top of me, his hips grinding into me. And I'm wrapping my legs around his waist, tilting my hips toward his erection which is pressing hard against his jeans.

His tongue is soft but urgent in my mouth and I reluctantly pull away and tug his lower lip with my teeth.

"We can't," I whisper. "We… not here."

"I know," he agrees. "I just… I have to keep kissing you."

"Yeah you do," I agree and he covers my lips again.

I don't know how or when it happened, but eventually exhaustion overcame us. I remember Sidney rolling off me and onto his back, pulling me into his side. I curled up, my head in the crook of his arm which was wrapped snugly around me, and the last thing I felt was his lips pressed softly to my forehead.

As my brain swims back to consciousness now I hear a door click and a floorboard creek. I stretch and feel the warm skin of his bare chest wrapped around my spine.

I want to drift back into blissful sleep but then I hear the voice.

"What the fuck?"

Suddenly I'm wide awake, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. I hurl myself into a sitting position and find Nessa at the foot of the sofa bed in a pair of sweats and a tank top, her delicate hand covering her wide open mouth.

I scramble off the bed, my eyes darting around the room to see if anyone else is witnessing this. Luckily no one is there.

I grab her hand and yank her back toward her bedroom. Once inside, I close the door behind us.

She pulls the hand from her mouth and gives me a delirious grin.

"Oh my god you fucked Sidney!" she says in a voice way louder than I would like.

"Shut up!" I demand grabbing her hands and giving her a little shake. "No! I swear to god! No I didn't."

Her eyebrows rise and her gaze lowers from my face to my body. "Dude, you're half naked."

I glance down at my bra and bare torso. "Fuck! Can I borrow a shirt?"

She starts laughing and pulls away from me and starts digging through her suitcase.

"So how was he?"

"I did NOT sleep with him," I argue knowing my face must be tomato red right now. "I…. I couldn't sleep in my room. Max is still in there with whatsherface. And Sid was too drunk to drive. I…. I should have just come in here with you, but I was drunk. And he kissed me."

"And you fucked him," she tries to finish the story for me. I pull the T shirt she hands me over my head.

"No!" I argue back and then start to laugh. Because it's all I can do. This whole thing is so ridiculous. "I mean I wanted to. But I didn't. And thank god, because I would have regretted it."

"No you wouldn't have," Nessa smiles sheepishly. "Hockey players are fanatastic in bed."

I give her a hard stare. "You sleep with one guy and now you're an expert on hockey players sexual abilities."

"Okay well maybe I am reaching but…. Jordan was…. The best I've ever had," Nessa confesses softly. I don't like the lilt I hear in her voice. It's more than just an impartial observation. It's still filled with longing.

"Where did he go last night?" I ask suddenly seeing the room for the first time. The sheets are a total mess. There's a pillow clear across the room and the duvet is in a heap on the floor. I step around the bed and notice not one but two shiny, square silver condom wrappers on the ground.

"You slept with Jordan!" I find myself struggling to keep my voice below a bellow. "Again!"

"I didn't mean to," she croaks but her smile is so bright she's beaming. "He came in here and just… started taking my clothes off. I couldn't say no. It would have been rude."

I laugh at that. "I'm calling you Molly Manners from now on."

"Don't you dare lecture me about hockey players now," she warns me. "You clearly broke your own rule. Again."

My laughter stops and the smile slides from my face. She's right. I totally fucked up.

"I made a mistake," I tell her solemnly. "It won't happen again. Can you say the same?"

She hesitates and averts her eyes, staring at the duvet on the ground. "Yeah. I mean we'll be going back to Cali soon anyway. This Jordan thing is just a one… two time thing."

I nod and crawl onto the bed beside her. "I need more Zsss."

"Me too," she mumbles and flops down beside me.

I close my eyes and try not to think about how much I absolutely loved being with Sid. I think instead of all the sweet emails and texts that Ryan used to send. Of all the private late night phone calls from the road and the promises he'd whispered in my ear that night that turned out to be lies. It was all lies.

Yeah, Sidney felt good. And Sidney was fun. But Sidney was still a hockey player. Besides, he was probably going to feel as awkward as me in the morning. He's not looking for a relationship, he hasn't lied about that at all.

Yeah. This will never happen again.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** I'm going on vacation so the next update won't be for a couple of days. Sorry! But the next chapter should be up Saturday. Thanks again for feedback!

"_Now you're a ghost in my mind._

_Yeah the upstairs is haunted_

_And all that I wanted_

_Was to get out alive."_ **Steve Carlson**

We're in the plane on the tarmack waiting for our flight back from Ottawa to take off. It was a brutal road trip for me. Not that my personal stats reflected that. I put up points in two of the three games. And yeah, we lost to Marc but we kicked Eric's ass so in the sibling rivalry area, I broke even. Despite two goals in 3 games the coach was still on my case. He thought I had been underperforming. And even though I think he's a douche part of me knows I wasn't 100% in the game.

I get settled in my seat and sigh. Max slides in beside me humming. He's always in such a good fucking mood. I'm jealous.

I pull my phone out of my pocket. I stare at it for a long time. I should be switching it to airplane mode. But I'm fighting a losing battle against the urge to text her. I've been strong for the entire trip but if I don't do it now I'll have to wait the entire flight.

So I text her.

_Hey. You still in the Burgh?_

I instantly regret it. I hate the feeling of giving in. Of giving up. Of losing control and I feel all of that as soon as I hit send. Now I'm in a worse mood.

I drop my phone onto the little tray extended in front of me and pull off my wool skull cap snapping my eyes shut and running my hands through my unbrushed hair.

"What's wrong with you lately?" Talbot asks from his position beside me.

"Tired," I reply and shift in my seat, doing up my seatbelt. "I haven't been sleeping well."

Shelley our regular stewardess on the Pens plane tells us to buckle up, we're about to take off.

"You should have come out with us after the New York game and found someone to tire you out," Max tells me. "You know New York is almost as good as Montreal."

Max rates the cities we visit according to their caliber of pretty and easy women. Montreal is his number one, New York his number two. And he's fairly accurate. I've had a lot of satisfying encounters in the Big Apple but even more in Montreal. French girls love to spread their legs for hockey players. It's like it's their civic duty.

The plane lifts into the air.

"Wasn't feeling it this time," I shrug. Marc has swung by the hotel and we'd had a beer at the hotel bar but that was it. I was upstairs, drowning in thoughts of her, by midnight.

"You have mono or something?" Max counters and he's only half kidding. "You skipped out on Clay's party early too."

The image of Vanessa, naked and writhing under me in Clay's guest room fills my head and makes my dick twitch in my pants. Fuck.

"No I don't have mono, retard," I roll my eyes and give him a shove thankful we've reached cruising altitude. "Let me up I need a snack."

He shifts and tucks his legs under his seat so I can scoot by him and out into the aisle. I make my way down to the back of the charter where there's a small table bolted to the wall with an array of sandwiches, muffins, bagels and drinks.

I stare at it for a long minute and realize as I grab a multigrain bagel and smear it with light cream cheese that I am hungry for more than just food.

Sid comes wandering down the aisle and stops beside me, grabbing a purple gatorade off the table.

"What's up with you?" he wants to know. "You've been…. Moody. Is it that time of the month?"

"Ha," I roll my eyes at him and his infantile humor I usually find hysterical. "It's been a rough trip. I hate losing to Marc."

Sid just nods and shrugs. It was a solid trip for him. He and Malkin could score from the locker room right now. They're on fire.

"Is Morgan's sister and her friend still in town?" I ask quietly as I notice Clay get up and head to the bathroom.

"I'm not sure," Sidney replies in a gruff, awkward voice. Maybe no one else would perceive it as that but I do… because I saw them.

"Are you bringing someone to the Christmas cocktail fundraiser?" I want to know.

He shakes his head. "I never do. Why? Are you?"

"I was thinking of bringing someone," I explain and take a bite of my bagel, chewing and swallowing before adding. "Max is bringing someone too. We think it might keep some of those crazy cougar chicks off us."

Sidney laughs at that. "Who you bringing?"

"I was going to ask Nessa if she's still in town." The statement drops like a lead balloon.

Sidney raises his dark eyebrows and stares at me concerned. "So she'd be your date?"

"Yeah I guess," I mumble and finish chewing another piece. When his eyes grow more concerned I get annoyed. "It's not the fucking prom Cros. It's a freaking kid's hospice fundraising event with season ticket holders and radio contest winners. Big deal."

"Well, the big deal isn't that you want to bring someone. It's that you want to bring _her_," he corrects me like a judgemental parent. "Did you not seal the deal that night you had her at your house?"

"Yeah I did," I reply and can't help but smile.

"So… why not take that Dani chick or whatever her name is from Clay's place," Sid questions. "You never did get to find out what fake tits feel like that night."

I shrug. "Vanessa is fun."

"Dude, she's Morgan's relative – well at least she might as well be," Sid starts arguing. "It's bad enough you slept with her once, you can't start leading her on."

"First of all," I say knowing full well I sound like a pissy teenager. "She's not his relative. Second of all I wouldn't be leading her on. I like her. She's cool."

"She lives in California," he reminds me pointedly and suddenly I am really tired of his anti-girlfriend attitude. Not that I want a girlfriend. "And she'll be going back there soon. The last thing you need is to get all tangled up with a girl on the other side of the country."

"It's one fucking date," I whine quietly so we don't get the other guys jumping into the conversation. "Not even a date. More of a favor. Last year two overweight forty year olds cornered me by the restrooms and tried to violate me. Ness would be saving me from that. That's all."

"And what if she doesn't see it as just that? What if she sees it as more? You're going to piss off Clay if you break his almost-sister's heart," he informs me crossing his arms and shaking his head in disapproval. Like he's so much better than me.

"Well at least I'm not fucking his actual sister on his sofa bed," I retort and instantly regret it.

Sidney's face turns pale and his jaw tightens and his brown eyes flare.

"How do you…?" he stops talking and swallows hard. "Look I don't know what you heard but I did NOT sleep with Bella."

"You just accidentally passed out naked on top of her?" I am enjoying his discomfort too much. I know that. It's mean, but I can't help it.

"I wasn't naked," he argues his eyes darting around relieved to see that Orpik and Cooke are in the closest seats and both have their ipods on. "I had pants on. And she had shorts on and her bra. And…"

"Whatever," I wave a hand in the air to stop his rambling. "You definitely didn't look platonic."

He shifts uncomfortably and stares at the carpet under us. "We might have made out…. For a few hours."

I laugh and for the first time in days my mood lightens. I love Sid. He's a good guy but he's always "on" – being the allstar perfect poster boy the world wants and needs him to be. My favorite Sidney Crosby is the one who acts like a human. The one who does stupid shit like make out with hot girls on sofa beds.

"But it was a mistake," he hurriedly explains. "She knows it too. She snuck into Vanessa's room or something by the time I woke up. And she didn't even look at me when I left that morning. I haven't, like, called her or anything."

I nod and finish my bagel grabbing a water and twisting the top off. "Randomly sucking face with a teammate's sister…. It's not like you to make that kind of mistake."

"Yeah, I know," he replies and then meets my eye again. "And it's not like you to make this kind of mistake."

I say nothing for a long moment. I worry he's right. That seeing Vanessa for a third time is a mistake. I know Sid's right, she lives across the country it's not like it can or will go anywhere. Why bother to spend more time with her?

Then suddenly Sid looks at me like a light bulb has gone off in his dark curly head.

"How the fuck did you know I was on the sofa bed? With Bella?" he wants to know. "I thought you left early?"

"I did," I reply shortly. "6am is really early."

"Where the fuck were you until 6am?" he hisses in an excited tone but I ignore him.

Without another word I push past him and beeline back to my seat.

As I plop down in my seat, I notice my phone is blinking. I have a text message. I forgot to turn it off when we took off and I should turn it off now because those are the rules but I also know that I'm not going to crash the plane if I take a look at it.

Max has his I-pod on and his eyes closed. Sidney has plopped down a row behind me next to Flower and, although he's glaring at me, he isn't about to come over and continue that conversation.

_I'm here until the 20__th__. What's up?_

I don't want to respond. I want to forget the whole fucking idea of seeing her again. But I can't deny hot how she is or how turned on she makes me. Or how she makes me laugh. Or how my mood lifted at just the simple fact she responded. And it is just one stupid charity event. And I really hate being pawed at by the cougars.

_Are you free on the 13__th__? I need a favor. Can you cock-block cougars for me?_

There. I did it. And I totally made it seem like this was a platonic favor. So if she bites she knows it's not all romantic or anything.

Sid was wrong. Maybe this isn't a one-night stand anymore but it's definitely nothing more than a fling. It's all good.

_"There's a thing going on_

_The kinda thing that's strong_

_It's real and it's wrong_

_But what's going on is_

_You… You belong with me."_ **Steve Carlson**

"What is so important on your phone that you are not paying attention to this pretentious indie flick you forced me to watch?" Bella asks pointedly staring at me from the other end of the couch.

"Staal just invited me to some fundraiser thing," I reply calmly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from grinning. I'm hoping using his last name will make me seem apathetic towards him and not giveaway the fact that all I think about lately is Jordan - his smile, his smartass sense of humor and his rock hard erection.

"Really?" She seems shocked and maybe a little disappointed?

"Yeah. On the 14th," I look up at her innocently. "He needs someone to cock block cougars."

She laughs out loud at that, her head flipping back.

"Those were his exact words," I add and laugh myself. "I guess there are a lot of horny middle aged females that follow hockey in this city."

"So are you going to help the poor boy out?" she raises her eyebrow and there is not a stitch of uncertainty in her face. She knows I said yes.

"I would hate to see him traumatized," I reply airily and Bella throws a throw pillow at my head.

"Molly Manners again huh?" She snarks and winks.

"You should come too," I suggest casually. "With Sidney."

She loses her smile instantly and shakes her head vigourously. Her thick wavy auburn hair tumbles around her shoulders. She has that perfect shampoo commercial hair. I'd hate her for it if she wasn't oblivious to it.

"Unlike you, I meant it when I Sid and I were not a thing," she replies a little pointedly. "It was one small mistake."

"He's small? That's sad."

"He's not small! In fact it felt like the polar opposite," she snaps back instantly and blushes. I giggle and clap my hands victoriously as my little joke got just the reaction I was hoping for.

Bella stands up and carries the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen, dropping it on the island and turning back to me, the blush gone from her cheeks.

"I told you so," she says flatly.

"What?"

"I'll feel too bad to say it when he's decimated your heart and you're all blubbering and everything so I'm saying it now," she explains with no humor in her voice.

"He doesn't have my heart to decimate," I argue defiantly. "It's one stupid date. If he had a sister he would probably ask her."

"He doesn't have a sister?" Bella questions as she opens the fridge and pulls out the white wine we were drinking.

"Nope. Just 3 brothers," I tell her and smile. "Can you imagine being trapped on a sod farm with four boys? That hockey rink his dad built them was probably the only way to keep them from burning the house down. Especially because their house was small. Jordan almost killed Jared on a regular basis because they shared a room. I guess Jared used to snore even as a kid and it made Jordan blind with sleep-deprived rage. Anyway, I bet they never thought a deversion tactic would lead to four NHL careers."

I snap my mouth closed and stop talking when I see the look on my best friend's face. Bella looks like someone just told her she was dying of cancer… or like someone told her I was.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask in a high-pitched tense voice, clutching a throw pillow to my chest for support.

"Listen to yourself," she commands in a somber tone. "You just verbally threw up a million intimate details of his life."

"What? I did? I just… he…" I swallow and force myself to form a complete sentence. "We talked a lot the other night. You know… in between rounds of mind blowing sex."

"Look, I know this is your first attempt at a one night stand, but you're doing it wrong," Bella snaps and walks back over to sit on the couch again, carrying the wine bottle with her.

"First of all it's one night, not two," she starts to lecture me as she refills my wine glass. "And second of all, you don't talk."

"So it was invented by mimes?" I say smartly trying hard to bring some humor to what has become a serious conversation.

"No talking," she repeats and wags her finger at me. "Nothing more than turn over and do you have a condom."

I blink and bite my lip.

"Definitely no childhood memories for godssake," she rants and tosses her head back into the pillow closing her eyes against the world. "This is going to be worse than I thought now."

"Why?"

"Because it's not just going to end," she informs me. "It's going to implode."

I don't like the sound of that. And I want to argue with her. I want to tell her once again that there is no way Jordan Staal can break my heart. He has absolutely zero affect on my emotions in any way. But it would be a lie. And she wouldn't believe me anyway.

Luckily before she can glare at me again or I can respond her phone goes off with that silly Snoopy Dance ringtone she puts on every December from a Charlie Brown Christmas.

She stares at her phone and smiles sheepishly.

"What?" I want to know desperate for something – anything – that will pull the conversation off Jordan and I… not that there is a Jordan and I…

"It's Max Talbot," she says her voice full of the same disbelief I feel at hearing that. She looks up at me. "He wants to know if I can cock block cougars for him on the 14th."

"Oh!" I'm stunned. I thought for sure it would be Sidney that invited her. "Well, you're not going to go are you?"

"Why not? You are."

"Yeah but… I mean what will Sidney think?"

"Yeah see that's the difference between Sidney and I and you and Jordan," she explains confidently. "Sidney won't care in the least and even if he did, I wouldn't care."

She starts to type a message back, hits send and smiles triumphantly. "Looks like we should go dress shopping."


	13. Chapter 13

"_Oh, gee, what is it tonight?_

_Please just tell me what the hell is wrong!_

_Do you wanna eat, do you wanna sleep, do you wanna drown?_

_Just settle down, settle down, settle down..."_ **Dramarama**

Clay is limping. I frown.

"It's fine," he says without even looking at me.

"Have you had it looked at?"

"Of course dumbass," he snaps and sips his diet coke. "They did an xray. Nothing is broken."

I press my lips together tightly in order to keep from telling him off. There's people – fans – milling around everywhere and they didn't pay to see me verbally bitch-slap my brother. I have to trust that the team doctors know what they're doing. They're not going to have him keep playing if he could end up more injured. I just wish someone I could slash Pronger as hard as he slashed Clay last night. The fucker.

Clay looks down at me pointedly. "Shouldn't you be with your date?"

I glare up at him. Sometimes I wish I was taller. It's not fair that my brother is 6'4. It's hard to intimidate a giraffe.

"He'll find me when he needs me," I reply and sip my white wine.

My eyes float over to where Max is enchanting an older couple who've been season ticket holders since 1983. He's quite the charmer. I can't help but notice Sidney standing a little left of Max. A pair of 40-something heavyset women have him cornered by the bar. Both are talking animatedly their hands flailing everywhere. He's smiling tightly and nodding extra hard to fake his enthusiasm.

I want to save him – especially when one of them leans in and grabs his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. But he didn't ask me to be his date. He doesn't want to be saved.

His caramel eyes glance over the shoulder of the heaviest woman and land on me. I give him a small wave and a friendly smile. He responds with a short nod and turns his attention back to the women.

"Wow. That seems cold," Nessa surmises as she pops a shrimp into her mouth from the plate of a passing waiter. "I bet he's pissed you're dating Max."

"Are you drunk?" I retort horrified. "I am not dating Max. I just came with him."

"Yeah but Sid probably thinks you came with him because you wanna cum with him," Nessa explains with an exaggerated wink.

I can't help but laugh. "You are such a knob."

I notice Jordan being cornered by a tall middle age woman dressed like a high school student in a short frilly miniskirt and a tube top. She has her hands wrapped around one of his hands and she's looking at him with intense eyes under fake eyelashes.

I nudge Vanessa. "You're not doing you're job."

"Oops! I'm on it!" She swallows another shrimp hastily and beelines for Jordan.

I see Max excuse himself from the old couple and start towards me with a big brotherly grin. Sidney watches us with narrowed eyes and I'm suddenly feeling guilty. And it irks me. Who the hell is he to glare at me? He has no right to be pissy about me being here with Max. It's not like he wants a girlfriend… or he even called me once since that whole mind-blowing marathon make-out session. I mean… not that I gave him my number, but still.

Screw Sidney, I think and impulsively hug Max.

"They want to meet you," Max tells me.

"Who?" I ask confused as he takes my hand and walks me back over to the old couple.

"Merv and Barbara," he replies with a smile. "They're a hoot. You'll love them."

"Why would they want to meet me?" I question but Max doesn't have time to answer because suddenly Barbara is hugging me like we're long lost relatives.

"Bella!" she says as she pulls back. "It's so good to meet you. I am a big fan of yours!"

"Mine? You mean my brother?" I correct, confused.

"Well yes Clay too," Merv interrupts with a nod as he reaches to shake my hand. "But Barb here has been following your college career as a goalie."

"Really?" I am honestly shocked. This demure looking 50-something woman does not look like someone who follows women's hockey.

"Barb here writes for women's magazines," Max explains. "And she wants to write about you."

"What?"

"Sweetie, it's just so amazing what you've been through," she starts to gush and I instantly feel uncomfortable… and a horrible sense of forboding that I know what's next. "Merve and I were living in Boston when your parents were killed. I remember every single news article about it. And I remember praying for you like I've never prayed for anyone."

"Oh," is all I can say. I know I've visibly tensed. I can feel every muscle in my body seize.

She nods and raises her hand to cup my cheek. "To think about all the injuries you overcame and what you went through emotionally being trapped in that car and watching your parents die…"

Barb's eyes are welling up now and I want to slap her as hard as I can across the face. How dare she bring that up. Who the hell is she? Why does she think it's okay to just blab on and on about my personal life here at a NHL benefit of all places!

"You know, you should share your story," she goes on. "Let me write a piece about it. So others can gain strength from your strength."

"Hi there," comes a voice from behind me. "I hate to interrupt but I wanted to say hello. I haven't had a chance to meet you yet and I am trying to say hello to everyone."

I watch Sidney as he casually slides in between Barb and I and scoops her hand up and starts shaking it. "I'm Sid."

"We know exactly who you are!" Barb replies excitedly. "I've been to so many of these but never got to meet you!"

I watch Sid as he distracts them and use the opportunity to sneak away. I almost run out of the ballroom, searching for the bathroom so I can lock myself in a stall until I can control the urge I have to cry.

"_When I was young I learned a game,_

_That love and happiness were the same,"_ **Dramarama**

"No seriously, you're the cutest one," the bleach blonde is assuring him in a deathly serious tone as I approach. "Sure Marc is okay for a redhead and I know a lot of people like Eric but the only thing that makes Eric cute is that he looks like you."

I wander up behind them, pausing behind Jordan's towering frame as I hear him respond logically. "I don't think Eric can look like me. I think I have to look like him. He's older. He looked like this first."

I bite my cheek and try not to laugh out loud as I touch the small of his back and stand beside him.

"Hi!" I say airily and smile brightly.

"There you are baby!" Jordan coos at me with a grin on his face as he politely untangles his hand from the cougar and takes mine.

I smile brightly at the woman who looks perturbed her "alone time" was interrupted. "Hi, I'm Vanessa and you're totally right. Jordan is the best-looking Staal. And, if I may be so bold, the most talented."

The cougar's eyes soften and she nods vigorously. "I could not agree with you more honey. Eric or Marc may have had a stronger junior career but Jordan consistently has a better plus minus than both of them."

"And don't even get me started on his PK skills," I exclaim and touch her shoulder like she's my bestest buddy. "He's a league leader when it comes to shutting down the powerplay and his brothers aren't leaders in shorthanded goals like he is!"

"Oh girl you are a smart one!"

"She's definitely a keeper," Jordan agrees and squeezes my hand leaning down and kissing my cheek softly.

The cougar smiles, a little sadly, but at least she's gracious in defeat. "You two make a lovely couple," she admits quietly. "I'm so glad you found someone who appreciates you, Jordan."

She excuses herself and makes a beeline for Marc Andre who Veronique made the fatal error of leaving alone.

I glance up at Jordan who is looking down at me with an amused but perplexed expression. "PK skills? Shutting down the powerplay?"

I shrug. "I googled you."

He laughs at that. I can't help but take note of the fact that our hands are still entwined.

"You're good at this." He whispers quietly in my ear, his lips against my chandelier earring.

"Cock-blocking cougars?"

"Playing my girlfriend…" he corrects quietly.

His blue eyes stare down at me intently, filled with an emotion I can't decipher but that makes me giddy and nervous at the same time.

Before I can respond Max and Bella come walking up. Bella hands me a full wine glass and Max grabs Jordan by the shoulder.

"Some radio contest winners want to meet you and get their picture with us," he tells Jordan excitedly.

Jordan looks down at me. "You should probably come with."

I'm about to nod happily when Max shakes his head. "Non, non. They're young and hot. No fake girlfriends necessary."

Jordan drops my hand and lets Max usher him off. Bella stands quietly beside me, grabbing a goat cheese and cranberry pastry puff off a passing waiter's tray.

"You okay?" she wants to know.

I take a deep breath and nod, giving her my best fake relaxed smile. "I'm great."

I take a big gulp of wine.

"_Is something wrong with me? Is something wrong with you?_

_I really wish I knew, wish I knew, wish I knew..." _**Dramarama**

I wash my hands not once but twice, trying to waste time. Being in the restroom is the only way I can be alone and scowl which is all I want to do right now.

Why the fuck is she here on a date with MAX?

I was totally blindsided by that. I knew that both Jordan and Max were considering bringing women and I even knew that Jordan wanted to bring Nessa but I had no idea that Max….. I mean is he interested in Bella?

Is that what this is about? And she said yes so does that mean she's interested in him?

And why the hell does thinking about make me so pissed off?

I think back to the old couple. I was close enough to hear that lady going on and on about Bella's parents' accident. I could see Bella's tiny frame tense up and the panic and anger building behind her pretty green eyes. I kept glancing at Max but he wasn't even paying attention. His eyes were on a pair of perky contest winners across the room.

Even though I was pissed at her and probably should have stayed out of it, I had to step in and give her a chance to escape. She clearly hates talking about her parents' death. I picked up on that when she was at dinner at Mario's. And this Barb woman was relentless.

I hope she appreciates it was me that saved her and not her fucking date.

I still can't believe she would date Max.

I give my head a shake and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Who fucking cares who she dates? It's not like she can date me – even if she wanted to. Or I wanted her to. Or whatever…

I sigh, walk toward the restroom door and step back out into the hotel lobby. The first thing I see is Bella, in her pretty little black and white dress. She's clearly just emerged from the ladies room directly across the hall.

We both freeze at the sight of each other.

"Hi," she says simply.

"Are you okay?" I can't help but ask because it looks like she might have been crying.

"Yes," she nods, her green eyes cast downward. "Are you?"

"Well, other than the fact that I find these events incredibly stressful and I would love to have a drink or six instead of smiling and shaking hands and signing jerseys and saying the right things, no everything is fine," I snap a little bit too harshly.

We stare at each other for a long moment.

I watch as she opens her purse and shows me a silver flask. "This is Max's but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I shared a little. He's been putting it in his cokes."

I feel that ball of anger forming in my chest again.

"I don't want to steal from your _date_," I snap and I know it sounds cheap and infantile.

"Is that what this is about?" she asks and starts to smile.

"I find it interesting that you broke your no hockey players rule for Talbot' yeah," I tell her and shove my hands deep in my pockets. "I mean if you ever really had a rule to begin with."

"Clearly you're better at following rules than me," she says in a low hostile voice. "You'd rather be accosted by drunk desperate women than even pretend to have a girlfriend. You win."

She starts to walk past me toward the ballroom but I catch her arm and pull her back towards the restrooms.

Before I can speak she pulls her arm out of my grip and raises a hand in my face.

"Max doesn't have the pressure I have," I find myself arguing as if trying to prove something to her. "If I showed up here with someone – even as a friend – the media and the fans would be losing their minds. The bullshit chatter would last weeks."

"You're probably right, but you know what? I bet Max, if he did have your pressure, he would do it anyway," She replies coolly. "Sid there is a point when you have to realize that succumbing to the expectations put upon you creates bigger expectations."

She pushes past me again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I call after her.

"Figure it out hot shot," she calls back and disappears into the ballroom.

"_And now I'm older and I don't play,_

_I found out the hardest way…"_ **Dramarama**

The brunette reminds me of an Ice Girl I fooled around with in Dallas my rookie year. Bright-eyed, perky and eager to please - like a rejected beauty pageant contestant. The Ice Girl gave fantastic head. For some reason I don't even care to find out if this one does.

Max says something that makes both the brunette and her blonde friend giggle. I smile and nod but my eyes are searching for Vanessa. A minute ago she was over by the back wall talking with Bella, Colby and Melissa but now I can't find her.

"See Jordy agrees," Max says and I wonder what the hell we're talking about.

"So what should we do then?" The blonde asks wide-eyed but far from innocent.

"Jordan and I will get you a couple of rooms," Max explains.

"What?" Suddenly I am paying full attention.

"Yeah I mean… it's the responsible thing to do mon ami," he gives me the fakest sincere smile I have ever seen in my life. "We'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"Wouldn't dream of it," the blonde replies as Max slaps a hand on my shoulder and guides me out of the ballroom.

Once in the lobby I turn to him shocked. "We're getting them rooms? Hotel rooms? What the fuck for?"

He gives me a perplexed look and laughs. "What do you think it's for?"

"They're fans. We can't… I mean not at an official event!"

"You heard them, they both said they were tipsy," Max replies. "It would be irresponsible of us – of the Penguins organization - to let them drive anywhere."

We've reached the concierge's desk and I listen helplessly as Max asks for two standard rooms.

"So let's call them a cab," I suggest.

He looks at me like I've had a lobotomy. "Did you miss the part where Amber said that she's always wanted to see what kind of conditioning we do off the ice?"

I don't say anything. Clearly I did miss that part. I also missed the part where she said her name was Amber.

"Dude, you can get them rooms, but I'm not going up there with them," I inform him.

"Why not?"

Before I can answer I feel a hand on the back of my dress shirt and Nessa is standing beside me. She smiles up at me, lopsided. She's clearly a little bit drunk herself.

"What'cha doing?" she wants to know.

I open my mouth but words do not even try to come out.

"We're getting some rooms," Max explains oh so helpfully. "Some fans are a little drunk and so you know… Jordy and I are being gentleman."

Her hand drops away from my back. I blink slowly hoping when my eyes open again her big pretty brown ones don't have such a rejected glint to them.

"Let me guess?" she says quietly. "These are the non-cougars you're helping out?"

Max shrugs happily. "Lucky for us, it is."

She steps away from me and I turn and look down at her.

"I thought we should call them a cab," I offer up lamely because I am a complete idiot.

"Why waste time in a cab when a good lay is only an elevator ride away," she questions with a smile that makes Max think she's onboard.

Is she onboard?

"Later Staal," she says lightly and walks off.

I follow her, catching up to her as she reaches the front door.

"Where are you going?" I want to know.

"Home."

"But I drove you here," I argue.

"I'll take a cab," she snaps stepping out through the big glass front doors.

"I can take you home," I step up behind her and drop my hands on her bare shoulders.

I feel her shoulders tense under my grip and she refuses to turn and look at me. She just shakes her head.

"I've had my turn on the Jordan Staal ride," she tells me in a cold, flat voice. "Now it's someone else's turn."

Fuck. That was brutal.

"So I was just an amusement park ride to you?" I fume.

The hotel valet has waived a cab over and he opens the door and waits for Nessa to get in. I move and block her way with my frame.

"What was I to you?" she asks her eyes finally landing on mine.

I shift uncomfortably.

"You're going back to LA."

She turns her eyes from me and gracefully scoots around me, heading to the cab.

"Well I mean I can't… that's all the way across the fucking country," I call out and she stops, one foot in the cab and just nods at me in confirmation of my geographical observation.

I'm feeling really angry and frustrated like I do when we're losing a game even though we're doing everything right.

"Do you know how hard it is to keep my life in order as it is right now?" I ask her and she stares blankly. "I never even know what day it is, only who we're playing. I can't remember to call my mom on her birthday unless Jared reminds me."

She doesn't say anything.

"Say something."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't fucking know."

"Because there's nothing to say," she replies.

"You're shitty at arguing you know that?" I snap.

"That's because I'm not arguing, you idiot," she snaps back. "Go get laid."

She gets in the cab, the valet shuts he door and I do nothing but watch it drive away.

I hate my fucking life right now.


	14. Chapter 14

"_Not everybody knows how to work my body  
knows how to make me want it  
but boy you stay up on it  
you got that something that keeps me so off balance  
baby you're a challenge, lets explore your talent."_ **Rihanna**

_Knock knock knock_

"Who the hell is that?" I ask my empty, dark room.

Knock knock knock

I throw the covers off and pad out into the hallway. Nessa is standing in the door to her bedroom. Having also been woken up by the incessant pounding, she's staring at me with blurry, tired eyes.

"Maybe Clay forgot his keys," I mutter, irritated and Nessa simply nods and yawns.

I don't know what went down with her tonight but she was already home – alone – when I got in. And she looked miserable although she wouldn't admit to it. She kept saying everything was fine.

I walk cautiously over to the front door of the apartment as someone knocks again. I lean forward and look through the peep hole. I hate it doing it. It's such a serial killer movie move. I always feel like the person on the other side knows you're there and is about to stick a knife in your eyeball.

I see his beautiful face staring back at me impatiently.

I glance at Nessa, the shock written on my face.

"It's Sid."

She looks disappointed for a second and I can't help but think she might have wished it was Jordan. But then she smiles. "So open it."

I run a nervous hand through my bed head, unlock the door and swing it open.

"Clay isn't here," I inform him instantly.

"I know," he replies flatly and a little louder than necessary. "He and Max got rooms at the hotel with girls. Can I come in?"

I glance at Nessa and she nods, clearly amused by what's happening – or what she thinks will happen.

I move my arm and let him make his way inside. As he brushes by me I can smell alcohol on him. I think it's Jack Daniels.

"I'm assuming no one needs me so I'll be going back to bed," Vanessa announces. "I'll also be sleeping with my I-pod on so don't worry about noise…"

I can't believe she just said that! I flip her the bird as she giggles and closes the door.

Sid is walking toward the living room but stops. "Just so you know, I didn't need Max's flask."

I smile and cross my arms across my chest. "No, clearly you found your own source."

"I did," he says proudly. "And I drank it in front of people not after everyone had left."

I bite my bottom lip. My god he is so ridiculously adorable right now all drunk, defiant and cocky.

"I came here to tell you that if you're going to tell people you don't date hockey players you should not date hockey players," he announces and starts pulling on his pretty pale blue tie.

"I never said I don't date hockey players," I correct him with a smirk. "I said hockey players are bad for – and in - relationships."

He opens his mouth to speak then snaps it shut quickly. Then locks eyes with me. His gaze is uncertain and nervous. "So you date hockey players?"

"No," I clarify and I am loving his confusion more than I should. "I don't date hockey players. But I never explicitly said that to you. I'm just clarifying what I did say."

He shakes his head and runs a hand through those thick gorgeous dark waves. "This is not the time for semantics."

"That's a big word for a hockey player," I can't help tease with a grin.

"I didn't go to college but I'm not an idiot," he replies defensively but the corners of his full mouth are tugged up in a smile. "I picked up on the fact that you wanted to kill that old lady. And I saved you. Not Max. Me."

My smile fades a little at the memory of that woman and her incessantly rambling about my parents and the accident. But then I look into his soft brown eyes and give him the gratitude he deserves. "Yes. Max had no clue how it was making me feel. So thank you. I owe you one."

"I don't want you to owe me," he replies sighs. "I just didn't want to see you hurt."

My heart swells at that statement and it's everything I can do not to walk over to him and wrap my arms around him and kiss him for all I'm worth.

"And just because I don't show my wild side all the time doesn't mean I don't have one," he announces, that adorably cocky, defiant drunkeness back in full force.

"And after tonight people will know the truth," I assure him with a giggle. "You're a bad ass that drinks Jack at team events."

He gives me a glare. Well, it's as close to a glare as he can muster as tipsy as he is.

"And I know what you were rambling on about back at the fundraiser," he says taking a small step toward me.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he nods and fiddles with the end of his tie. "You're saying that people expect me to be all squeaky clean, Disney version of a hockey player because I act like a squeaky clean Disney version of a hockey player. And I act like that because people expect that. And it's a vicious circle."

He looks at me with sad eyes.

"Yes," I confirm. "That was basically what I was saying. And the higher the expectations you live up to the higher the next expectation becomes. Before long the world will expect you to cure cancer. And be disappointed when you can't."

"I saved this franchise, the Penguins," he tells me but there is no arrogance in his raspy voice. "I say that because it's what I am told all the time. By everyone. Fuck I heard it a million times tonight alone."

He is staring at his hands which are twisting and untwisting the pretty baby blue tie he's pulled off his neck. I take a step toward him, reach out and pull the tie slowly out of his grip. It's Dolce and Gabanna. It's doesn't deserve to be mutilated.

"I get that you can't get caught with two strippers and a monkey in a hotel room on a road trip," I say with a grin. "But didn't it feel good to let lose a little?"

He laughs at that. The air in the room is suddenly lighter. The world feels lighter. That's what his laugh does to me.

"Coach knew I started drinking. He looked pissed," He says and smiles happily. "It was fucking great."

I laugh at that and he does too. And then as our laughter fades he shrugs a little awkwardly and says "I guess I should be going."

"Please tell me you didn't drive," I say concerned.

He shakes his head. "Nah I cabbed it. I'll call another from the lobby."

He walks by me and I reach out and grab his arm just above the wrist. He glances over at me.

"You can just stay here," I volunteer softly trying to keep the hope – and the desire – out of my voice.

"We decided…" he falters and stops mid-sentence his tongue darting out of those perfect pink lips. "You don't. I mean I don't…"

"Pullout couch, remember?" I say simply.

"Right," he nods tersely. "Sure. Okay. It would be easier."

I let go of his arm and walk into the living room. I start to pull out the bed and I kinda feel like an idiot. This isn't what I had in mind when I first suggested it. Maybe it was the late hour or the wine I'd had earlier or the cute way he was acting tonight but… I was totally suggesting something else entirely. Something stupid.

Clearly Sid is too smart to make that mistake twice.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom," he tells me and disappears down the hall.

I hear a soft click of the bathroom door closing and I hurriedly finish making the bed.

I'm hoping to get back into my room, and leave him to his sleep without an awkward good night, but as I pad back down the hall he opens the bathroom door, which is across from my room.

He's got his shirt off. His skin looks almost alabastar in the florescent light. It's so pristine and perfectly chiseled, my fingers ache to touch it. He's so…..thick. So much muscle in such a tight compact space. It's amazing.

"I know it's a long shot, but do you happen to have an extra toothbrush?" He asks hopefully.

I smile. "Yeah. We have spares under the sink. Clay is always leaving his on the road."

I walk over and scoot past him into the relatively small guest bathroom. He leans on the door frame and I'm fully aware he's watching me bend over in my clingy little pajama shorts. I find myself hoping wildly that he likes what he sees – which is stupid. So stupid. He's a hockey player. I don't want hockey players in my life.

I grab one and turn and hand it to him. He takes it our fingers tangling for a second before I pull back and out of the small space.

"You'll probably need a towel too," I call and open the linen closet and take out a towel in case he wants to wash his face or whatever.

I head back into the bathroom. The counter is not very big and seems even smaller with a stalky NHLer leaning over it, spitting into the sink. I try to make myself tinier than I am and sneak in behind him, reaching around him to place the towel on the corner of the counter.

He tries to slide out of the way and I scoot in closer to the counter, leave his towel on the marble surface and turn to head back out. But he's directly behind me now and we're pressed up against each other, chest-to-chest. I avoid his pretty eyes and push back in order to create space between us because his closeness is making me dizzy – and horny. But as I try to take the only small step I can to back away from him, his hand is suddenly on the small of my back holding me in place. Keeping me pressed to him.

"For the record," he starts in a low, sexy whisper. "The thing I wished I'd done more than have a few drinks…. Is taken you as my date."

My breath hitches and my heart flutters and before I can regain my sense he lowers his head and captures my lips. I fight the urge to whimper, overwhelmed with lust, as he forcefully pushes his tongue into my mouth.

"Fuck I want you," he whispers into my mouth and I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him to me, urging him on.

His hands slide over my ass and he cups it and pulls me up so I'm now sitting on the edge of the counter. I open my legs and pull him into the space between them, my lips moving to his jaw and then his ear and then his neck.

He grunts approval softly in my ear as his hands find their way under my tank top, pulling it up over my torso as his hands explore their way upwards. My hands go straight to his pants and quickly undo his belt.

I've lost the ability to think. All I can do is feel. I want to feel his skin on mine. I want to feel his lips. I want to feel his cock. I pull the zipper down and my hand slides over the hard, thick bulge in his underwear.

He's got my shirt off and his lips dip and his pretty pink tongue darts out and finds my nipple and I shudder. He seems to like that he caused a physical reaction because he smiles as he moves to my other breast.

My hands push his pants over his hips and as they pool at his feet I grab the waistband of his boxer briefs.

I know we should stop. It shouldn't go farther than it did the last time. Any farther and we'll cross lines and it'll get complicated and messy and… I know there's nothing to stop us – to jolt us back to reality the way Max's ass in my bed did. This is all on me – only I can save myself from this – but I just don't want to.

He presses his lips to mine urgently and the kiss is wild and hot. His long fingers are slipping into the waistband of my shorts and my brain shuts off as I shove his underwear down to the floor to join his pants on the floor. He's tugging at my shorts feverishly so I hop off the counter and our bare chests touch. I wrap one hand around his neck and tangle my fingers in his hair as the other hand falls to the tight space between us and I wrap it around his shaft, giving it a soft, deliberate tug.

He's managed to push my shorts over my hips and they're now on the floor with the rest of our clothes.

He nuzzles my neck and his hand grazes my center before he grabs my hips and lifts me onto the counter again. His leg kicks back, like it sometimes does when he shoots a puck, and he kicks the door closed.

His lips find mine again and our tongues dance together as I feel his tip at my entrance. My hands drop to his ass and I pull him into me. He doesn't even try to resist.

And then we pause. No words are spoken. No movement made. My eyes flutter open and he's looking at me with a deep, soft stare. We've broken all the rules now. There's no going back.

He slides out of me halfway and back in just as slowly. And then he does it again. And again. I hook my legs behind his back and tilt my pelvis ever so slightly taking more of him inside me.

I nip his collarbone and hold onto him as his pace quickens and his breath starts to come out in hard puffs. One of his hands moves from my back to my thigh and slides to my center. His thumb rolls over my clit sending a tidal wave of sensation through my body.

His pace is frenzied now and his hard cock and soft his thumb are catapulting me into orgasm. I fall off the edge, my body tightening around his, my fingers wrapping around his hair, tugging as I whimper into his shoulder, completely spent.

With one last, hard thrust he lets out a grunt and a shudder and swears a blue streak as he releases too.

And I'm drunk with happiness and aching with satisfaction and all I can think about is how beautiful he is and how perfect that was. I refuse to think about what will happen next.


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing I feel as my mind descends from dreaming into waking is her tiny form. Her back pressed up against my chest, her hips curled into my abdomen, her perfect ass pushing against my inevitable morning wood.

I smile.

I know I should be worried. I should be panicked. I should be regretful. But I'm not. I'm just… content.

She stretches, her long lean limbs bending and curling and reaching. She's graceful and beautiful even in this barely conscious state. She shifts so she's on her back now. I prop myself up on an elbow on the pillow beside her and watch her serene face as she drifts back from dreamland.

Her lush dark lashes flutter on her high cheekbones and then her mossy green eyes look up at me and struggle to focus.

When she realizes I'm right there, inches away, staring down at her and smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary, she rolls self-consciously toward me burying her face in the nook between my arm and her pillow.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asks with a giggle. "Was I drooling or snoring or something?"

"No," I laugh rake my hand through her long silky hair. "I was just… you're beautiful. I like looking at you. I couldn't really do that last night what with my eyes rolling back in my head and everything."

She peeks up at me now with a grin. I lean down and kiss her forehead.

We're silent for the longest second and then she lifts her head a little bit off the bed, her hair cascading behind her and she kisses my lips. It's soft and lazy and perfect.

Until my phone starts buzzing like crazy on the floor somewhere.

She laughs out loud and pushes me away. "You're ring tone is Stompin Tom's hockey song?"

"You think that's out of character?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

She just giggles.

The phone keeps ringing and I glance at the clock beside her bed. It's still pretty early. I know that must mean it's important. No one calls before 9am if it isn't.

I groan. "I should get that."

She simply nods and rolls over hanging her torso off the bed as she reaches down and scoops up my phone. She hands it to me and slips out of bed grabbing her clothes off the floor.

"I should go and make sure that the coast is clear," she tells me as I see Mario's number on the call display. "I don't want to get caught."

"Yeah," I agree and then falter. "We should talk about this too. About what happened and you know… what we do now."

She tenses and freezes for a millisecond as she tugs on her tank top. "Yeah. Okay. After."

I answer the phone as she slips out into the hall.

"Where the heck are you?" he demands. He isn't mad but he's definitely perturbed. He'd be mad if he thought he could get away with it, but he's not my dad and knows better than to act like it.

"I stayed out last night," I reply vaguely. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he answers automatically but it doesn't sound like the truth. "Where are you?"

"Why?"

"Practice is at 11," he tells me like I would somehow not remember. "Are you coming home before that?"

"I hadn't decided," I answer honestly and then my phone beeps in my ear.

I glance at the call display and quickly put the phone back to my ear. "Hey Mario, I won't miss practice I swear. But I gotta go. Colby is on the other line."

"No wait! Sid," his voice is a full octave higher now. "That's why I'm calling."

I'm completely confused now. And a nervous butterfly has started to careen around my abdomen. "You're calling about Colby?"

"Yes," he sighs loudly into the phone and then just blurts it out. "We traded him."

I feel like someone suddenly and violently ran me down with a Mac truck. "You didn't."

"Listen, we had to do it," Mario starts trying to keep his tone even.

"Colby is a great player. We don't need great players?"

"Christensen is gone too," Mario says flatly ignoring my challenge.

"Really? How much of this had to do with Therrien?" I demand hotly. I'm furious and devastated.

"It goes deeper than that, Sid and I know you know that," Mario responds calmly. "Look, I just wanted to tell you before you saw it on the news. Or heard from Colby."

"Thanks. I'll talk to you later," I hang up before he can say anything else.

I pull on some clothes and walk out of the bedroom. I can hear voices and Nessa meets me in the hall and almost tackles me. "Clay just got home," she whispers anxiously. "We said you slept on the pull out again and that you're in the bathroom right now."

I nod. I don't really want to hide my relationship with Bella from Clay but now is not the time to make an announcement. Not with the team announcement that just dropped down like a hammer.

I walk out into the living room and see Clay standing at the kitchen island making something in the blender – it looks like a protein shake. Bella is sitting across from him. Her eyes search mine to make sure I know the plan.

"Dude," Clay smiles. "You missed one hell of a time last night. Those women were… athletic."

"Mario traded Colby."

"What?" he turns the blender off and stares, his mouth open. "Why? Where?"

"Mario is going to say it was cap reasons and we needed depth on defense – which was you – and downsizing our overloaded offensive was the best solution," I predict because I know my landlord too well. "But it's probably more about Therrien not gelling with Colby. They've never gotten along. He's blaming any one he can for our inconsistent season."

"Fuck," is all Clay says.

"Well, we have practice," I say with a shrug. "I'm gong to head that way early, and call Colby back."

Everyone nods but no one speaks. There's nothing to say. It is what it is. It's hockey.

I give Bella a small smile. "Thanks for the couch."

She nods.

I wave goodbye and head out of the condo. As I'm waiting by the elevator Bella comes around the corner still in her pajamas. She smiles at me sadly.

"Sorry about Colby," she tells me.

"Thanks," I sigh. "I umm… I think we still need to talk and everything."

She nods, but there is a look of caution in her eyes. "That can wait. Don't worry about it."

The elevator arrives and the doors open. I start toward it but then turn around and kiss her. She kisses me back and I feel…. Better.

I step into the elevator and smile. "I'll see you later."

She nods.

How could a day that started with so much potential already be so shitty? I dial Colby's number.

I'm so uncomfortable right now I could crawl out of my own skin. There are very few things that unnerve me but a girl crying is at the top of that list. And Melissa, Colby's girlfriend, has been bawling since we got here.

I lean over to Clay as Max and Sidney talk to Colby, who has his arm around Melissa as he rubs her shoulder soothingly. "Dude…. I can't handle all the tears," I whisper.

"It's okay," Clay assures me. "I called in someone who can."

I give him a quizzical look but don't have time to pursue the conversation as Colby says, "Gronk can you get me some Kleenex for Melissa?"

I jump up off the chair I've been occupying in Colby and Melissa's apartment and head down the hall to the bathroom. I'm glad for the assignment. It makes me feel less useless. As I come out of the bathroom with an entire box of Kleenex, the front door opens and Bella and Nessa come in.

"Clay called," Bella explains. "We're here to calm Melissa down."

I just nod and point toward the living room. They both kick off their shoes and make a beeline for their fellow female. Bella hugs me as she passes. Nessa punches my shoulder lightly as a greeting, like she's some dude from my Junior team, and then makes a wide berth around me, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.

Now I'm even more uncomfortable.

"It's too late to trade anymore!" Melissa argues. "Isn't it Christmas break? I don't understand."

"Last night was the deadline. They must have inked the deal before midnight," Bella confirms as she reaches for Melissa, extending her hand. "Come with me, honey. We'll talk about this, just the girls. Nessa will make tea."

Nessa nods vigorously and I smile. She's such a cheerleader.

Melissa allows herself to be escorted from the living room. Bella walks her down the hall and shuts the door on their small study. Nessa turns and heads down the hall in the opposite direction into the kitchen.

Colby lets out a huge sigh as soon as Melissa is gone. "This is a fucking nightmare. She's completely melting down over this. I warned her. I knew from my agent that this was a possibility."

"Girls just don't get it," Sid replies.

"Well you can't totally blame them," I speak up and they all stare at me. "I mean, they have to uproot their lives for our careers. Melissa grew up here so she's going to have to leave her whole family."

"I know," Colby relents. "I just need her to keep it together a little bit. I don't exactly want to play hockey in a fucking southern state either."

We all nod solemnly at that.

"I need a fucking beer," Colby complains and starts to get up off the couch.

"I'll grab it," I offer and he drops back down onto the couch. "Anyone else?"

Everyone mumbles yes.

I head off into the kitchen.

Nessa is standing with her back to the swinging door, here eyes focused intently on the kettle on the stove.

"A watched pot never boils," I lament.

She kinda jumps in surprise and turns to me with a vacant stare. "Thanks Grandma Staal for the age old wisdom."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I'm not the best at these situations."

"You aren't?" she questions. "I've been friends with the Morgans my whole life and I still don't understand how any of it works. Why Colby?"

"They said at practice that when we signed Clay we ended up with salary cap issues," I explain. "See every NHL team can only spend a certain amount of money on their active roster. It's supposed to keep things fair."

She thinks about it a minute as I head to the fridge and look for the beer.

"So one really rich dude who owns a team can't buy all the best players?" she questions.

"Basically," I nod and start pulling Coronas from the fridge. "But Sid thinks it has more to do with our coach having issues with Colby. They have never really gotten along. But in the end we don't know why. We just have to suck it up."

"Bella will help Melissa through it," Nessa said confidently. "I mean in the end Melissa loves Colby and moving is a small price to pay to be with the person you love."

That statement shocks me and I can't even begin to hide it. She catches the confusion in my eye and cocks her head questioningly.

"You don't think it's a big traumatic deal?" I ask. I have never met a girl – wife or fiancé or whatever – of a player that didn't pitch a fit when their partner was traded.

She shrugs as the kettle begins to whistle. "Like I said I grew up around the Morgans. I get that it's part of the deal. And I'm also a bit of a romantic. If I ever fell in love I know I would do whatever it takes to be with that person. Because it'd be worth it."

She goes about putting tea bags in mugs and covering them with hot water and I let her statement settle over me. I'm suddenly feeling… weird. Like happiness and sadness and confusion are all churned up inside me.

"I didn't get rooms with those girls," I find myself telling her. "Max and Clay did. I went home. Alone."

She places the last steaming mug on a tray and turns to me. I can't for the life of me figure out the look on her face. Is she happy about what I just said? Does she care even the least bit?

The kitchen door swings open and it's Max looking impatient. "Mon ami! Ou est la Bierre?"

"Right here. Help me carry it," I mumble and hand him a few of the bottles. Max takes the bottles and heads back out into the living room as I hold the door open for Nessa.

An hour later the girls emerge from the study and Melissa looks infinitely calmer. She leans over the couch and kisses Colby lightly on the cheek. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Colby replies earnestly. "I get it. It sucks."

"It does, but now that I have a plan I feel more in control," she says.

"What's the plan?" Colby asks skeptically.

"I leave you and marry an accountant," Melissa quips with a smile. "Less drama."

Everyone laughs, even Colby.

"I called work and booked my holidays early. We'll go to Atlanta now, together," she says stoically. "After the holidays I'll come back here and I'll quit my job and pack this place up and then become a hockey wife fulltime."

"I like that plan," Colby tells her with a wink.

"It'll give me more time to plan the wedding anyway," Melissa shrugs.

The happy couple seems happy again. I watch Clay smile at Bella, proud his sister helped his teammate – I mean former teammate - avoid relationship disaster. But then I can't help but notice Sid is smiling proudly at Bella too. Weird. I can't help but wonder if she has something to do with the fact he was wearing the same clothes as last night when he showed up at the rink this morning.

"I should go," Max says quietly. "I have a date tonight."

"A date?" I question with a grin. "Since when do you date?"

"The classy chicks like to get a meal out of the deal," Max says rudely. "Still cheaper than a hooker."

"Wow Talbot you are a true catch," Nessa rolls her eyes, disgusted.

Max simply shrugs and hugs Colby good-bye. "This isn't good bye mon ami. It's see you later."

"We'll go out after the game Thursday," Sidney reassures Colby and hugs him. "As long as you don't score on us."

I hug him too and we head out.

We're all packed into the tiny elevator as it takes us out to the lobby of Colby's building. Because of the small space and the enormousness of the hockey players, Nessa is squished up against me. She's got her arms and shoulders curled forward like she's trying as hard as she can to touch my as little as possible.

This makes me feel like shit. I reach forward and touch her waist softly. Resting my hand on it. Her body tenses but she doesn't move my hand away. It's a tiny victory but I'll take it.

In the lobby we realize we have a vehicle issue. Clay drove Sid, and Max over here from the arena. I met them here. Bella and Ness took a cab. Now we have too many people that Clay needs to drive home.

"You and Bella take Max and Sid back to the arena and I can take Nessa home," I volunteer instantly before anyone can figure out a better plan.

Bella turns and gives Ness a funny look but Nessa doesn't react. Everyone just nods at the plan and we head to our respective cars.

I open the door for her and she shakes her head. "You don't have to do that anymore."

"What? Be polite?" I ask as I watch her buckle her seatbelt. "I was raised on a farm not in a barn."

She smiles at that and it's her first genuine smile of the day.

I close her door and quickly get in the driver's side and start the car. We sit there idling for a long minute while I wait for the engine to warm up and the windows to unfog.

"So you're a romantic huh?" I ask casually thinking back to her statement in Colby's kitchen.

"I hate admitting it but I am," she confesses. "I love the idea of love."

"But you've never been in love?" I question again referencing her statement earlier.

She shakes her head and looks a little embarrassed. "No. I've been close. A few times. But… mostly it's been a lot of lust," she laughs. "and infatuation."

I start to pull carefully out of the parking lot. It's started snowing and with the sun setting ice is bound to form on the roads.

"How about you?" she asks quietly, her eyes on the falling flakes beyond the windshield. "Have you been in love?"

"A little bit," I mumble as I carefully turn the car and find myself grateful I put on snow tires early this season.

"How do you fall in love a little bit?" She demands with a look of cynicism on her exotic features.

"I… I mean I did love her," I shrug self-consciously. "But in the end… I didn't love her enough to want to settle down."

"Ah," Vanessa nods like a light bulb went on. "She was pressuring you into marriage."

"Yes, like a vice grip of pressure," I admit and Nessa laughs. "And I almost did it too."

"And you're not ready," Nessa surmised. "Being single is easy and you're not ready for complicated. Complicated would screw with your career."

I shake my head. "That's Sid's philosophy. Not mine."

"Then what's yours?"

"My philosophy is if it's the right girl it won't feel complicated," I reply honestly. "It won't adversely affect me. It'll only make me better and I'll only make her better. Heather didn't do that for me. And whether she can see it or not, I didn't do that for her."

Vanessa is silent. She simply nods. But as she looks out the window again I see her eyes narrow and her nose crinkle up in confusion.

"I thought Clay lived the other way," she says.

"He does," I reply with a nod keeping my eyes focused on the snowy road ahead of me. "When I said I would take you home, I meant my home."

Although I refuse to look over at her I know that she isn't smiling.

"Don't you have a road trip to get ready for?" she inquires, her voice distant and cool.

"Yep," I nod and steal a quick glance at her to give her a smile. "I was just going to order in and iron some of my dress shirts. I figured you have to eat, and you could keep my mind off the Colby thing. And I could teach you to iron. I hear you LA types don't do domestic chores."

She's smiling now. I can feel it. "I'm amazed that your dress shirts aren't plaid flannel farm boy."

I laugh. It's so good to joke with her.

As I pull into my driveway and put the car in park she hesitates. "Jordan… don't you think if we… keep hanging out like this it'll just make things more complicated when I leave?"

"No," I snap back instantly and then shake my head. "I don't know. Maybe. But… I don't care."

"You should care," she reminds me. "I should care too."

"But you don't do you?" I ask hopefully.

She sighs and laughs to herself before meeting my eye. "I really don't."

I lean over touch her lips softly with mine. She cups the side of my cheek gently and her hand is warm and soothing.

She breaks the kiss before it gets too hot and gives me a little shove and climbs out of the car. "For the record, I know how to iron."

"Really?" I say as I shut my door and make my way up the walk. "Great then you can iron my shirts while I play video games."

As I turn to see her reaction to my teasing I see the snowball careening towards my face and I don't have time to react. It hits me squarely in the middle of my forehead.

I hear her laughing hysterically as I wipe the wet mess from my face and try to hide a smile.


End file.
